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NARRATIVE 



REFLECTIONS 



OF 



JUSTIN WELLS. 



COMPILED FROM MANUSCRIPTS WRITTEN BY HIMSELB. 



FOURTH THOUSAND. 



BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR, 

BY C. H. PEIRCE. 

1852, 



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£ 



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Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 

G. C. WELLS, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



Stereotyped by 

HOBABT & BOBBINS, 

BOSTON. 



*/'?* 



PREFACE. 



The author of this narrative is an invalid. More 
than eighteen years since, he became the victim of 
disease, which has produced a perfect and total paraly- 
sis of all the muscles of volition. A slight motion of 
the- head and body is all of which he is capable. The 
faculties of the mind and the vocal organs remain unim- 
paired. In such a state of helplessness he has written 
this volume, by having the manuscript laid on a frame 
attached to the front of his chair, and holding the pen 
in his teeth, as represented in the engraving. 

It has been a slow and laborious work, confining him 
more than a year to almost incessant toil. 

It is now offered to the public, with the hope that it 
/ may be rendered a blessing to many ; and that the suf- 
ferer may derive some pecuniary aid in his affliction. 

The author is aware that so strange a method of 
writing will appear incredible ; hence, the following" 



IT PREFACE. 

certificates, proffered by respectable gentlemen of the 
town of Colchester, Connecticut, — the place of his 
residence, — are here inserted. 

I hereby certify, that I have visited Mr. Justin Wells, a 
man afflicted as he states, and wholly deprived of the use of 
his limbs. I have also seen him write, by holding his pen 
with his teeth, in a slow and toilsome way, and am fully per- 
suaded that he can write in no other, not being able to use 
arms, or hands, or feet, in any degree whatever. 

ALBERT F. PARK, 
Pastor of the M. E. Church in Colchester, 
Colchester, Conn., Aug. 19, 1850. 

I hereby certify that I have seen Mr. Justin Wells write. 
I know that his manner of holding a pen is as represented in 
the accompanying engraving, and that all his writing is done 
in the same way, — he not having the least use of his hands. 

J. B. WHEELER. 

Colchester, Conn., Aug. 15, 1850. 



CHAPTER I. 

" Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, 
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain; 
Awake but one, and lo ! what myriads rise — 
Each stamps its image as the other flies. 
Each, as the varied avenves cf sense 
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
Brightens or fades ; yet a^l, with magic art, 
Control the latent fibres of the heart." 

The delightful and romantic town of 
Hebron, Conn., is hallowed in memory as 
the place of my birth, and the scenes of my 
early youth. Of all others, that spot is in- 
vested with perennial joys and unfading 
bliss. It is consecrated by the gambols of 
childhood, and the nurture of tender age. 
The voices of my playmates, and the wild 
fancies of youth, are there. It was there I 
chased the gay butterfly in the fields, lis- 
1* 



6 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

tened to the gay notes of birds, and plucked 
the blooming flowers, to inhale their fra- 
grance. Like a dream when the morning 
is come, the scenes of home now all rush 
upon the mind. And thither, when age has 
mantled my temples with the hoar-frosts of 
time, shall I delight, with these palsied 
limbs, to repair, and sit down among the 
graves of those I love, and weep. There, 
in the buoyancy of youthful hope, the future 
spread out its vast panorama of pleasure, 
usefulness, and delight. Its unexplored re- 
gions, its ample fields, and beautiful groves, 
which were to be traversed in my coming 
threescore years and ten, were to me all 
that poetry could describe in imagery, or 
pencil paint in fancy. The sportive scenes 
of childhood were but the vestibule through 
which I must pass to the inner temple of 
experience and usefulness. And how has 
my little heart panted with glowing enthu- 
siasm and ardent longings, when thinking 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 7 

of the future! The future — that mysteri- 
ous book, of which but a page, a sentence, 
i line, is disclosed at once, and which, as 
lisclosed, often blights our fairest prospects, 
destroys our most sanguine hopes, and chills 
our most blissful expectations. 

An unbroken group was ours. A father 
who had a father's heart, a mother who 
lived only for her loved ones, four warm- 
hearted brothers, and two lovely sisters, 
together with myself, the elder, constituted 
our happy circle. Providence dealt but 
sparingly with her temporal gifts; yet did 
no splendid mansion, with luxury loaded 
table, afford more affectionate or happy 
hearts. Poverty, however, with its lean 
and haggard and filthy face, was not a 
resident or guest within our humble home; 
for blessings procured by the honest, indus- 
trious labor of a father, with the frugal care 
and unspotted neatness of a mother, gave an 
aspect of comfort and easy independence to 



8 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

our lowly habitation. Many buildings of 
beautiful architecture, costly material, and 
imposing aspect, would be passed by the 
traveller with less pleasure and interest 
than our jessamine cottage ; for the ivy and 
honeysuckle, the morning-glory, and hum- 
ble violet, together with a great variety of 
the poor man's horticultural specimens, were 
abundantly profuse. Exotics rich, dahlias, 
cactuses, and geraniums, would have as 
illy become our home, as jewels on a beg- 
gar's gown. But Nature, always lavish, 
always kind, supplied their place ; and, 
trained by the tasteful hand of mother, our 
cottage garden was filled with humble flow- 
ers, which perfumed the atmosphere with 
what was to us almost celestial fragrance. 

Thus sweetly passed twelve happy years, 
— years of unsullied bliss — of pleasure un- t 
alloyed. How swiftly did they speed ! And 
though the glowing aspirations of youth 
would have fain transported me to the time 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 9 

when I should be a man ; yet so peaceful, 
so tranquil, was our home, gladly would 1 
have remained there until time had silvered 
my locks, furrowed my cheeks, palsied my 
limbs ; and there, in that loved spot, laid me 
down to die. My ardent longings for com- 
ing usefulness and honor would have quietly 
resigned their position to the stronger love 
of home. Life then was as a summer's day, 
in whose sunbeam I sported as playfully as 
the insect on its tiny wing, — as an unruffled 
sea, upon whose smooth and tranquil sur- 
face I reposed, unmindful of clouds or 
storms, — as the pleasant day-dream of an 
excited fancy, upon whose pinions I soared 
in ecstasy, — as the clear, cloudless sunlight 
of one constant, ever-during day. 

But alas ! this bright summer's day was 
followed by a long and gloomy night, — a 
night without moon or stars, — a night upon 
which the sun has not risen for weeks, for 
months, for years. This calm, unruffled 



10 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

sea has been lashed to a dreadful storm, 
and the tempest dashed its fury against my 
frail bark, almost to its perishing. This 
fanciful day-dream has become, in its oppo- 
site, a sad reality, and life, by adversity's 
chill blasts, become a dreary waste, — a 
wilderness of sorrow and of grief. I have 
found this to be a mixed world ; — • a world of 
joy and sorrow; a world of prosperity and 
adversity ; a world of health and disease ; 
a world of life and death. O, ye who have 
dreamed of nought but shady paths, and 
sunny scenes, and bubbling springs, and 
placid seas, and gentle zephyrs, will find 
yourselves deceived, as the events of life 
come on ! The cup of which you drink is 
a mingled one ; the path in which you tread 
alike yields thorns and flowers. Enjoyment, 
says one, is indestructible ; and were it not 
for this, how little of pleasure would be 
mingled in my cup ! Forty-two years have 
fled since first I saw the light ; and oh ! did 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 11 

not memory recall those twelve bright years 
of early youth, drear indeed would be the 
retrospect. Sunny spots, oases in my life's 
landscape, "are like angels' visits, few and 
far between." But often now, while this 
emaciated frame and useless limbs are racked 
with pain, do I repair to my once blissful 
home. Again the happy group is met ; the 
voices of those I love most on earth are 
stealing with heaven's own music on my ear, 
and, fresh with youthful vigor and glowing 
hope, I seem to live again in the bright 
visions of the past. 



CHAPTER II. 

" O love ! thy visitings of earth are ever, ever brief, 
As summer's evanescent flowers, or autumn's fading leaf; 
We clasp thee to our throbbing hearts, and wildly, vainly cling 
To cherished idol^forms of clay, — frail, fragile, withering." 

But a change has come over the spirit of 
my dream. My pen almost refuses to per- 
form its office, and gladly would I blot 
from my mind's tablet the mysterious event 
which proved destructive to earth's enjoy- 
ments, and severed the links which so close- 
ly bound our circle. 

After an absence of a few weeks from 
home, I started, one fine afternoon, to return. 
My route lay through the midst of one of 
the loveliest of New England's many lovely 
scenes. Far below, on their ocean-ward 
journey, danced the clear waters of the ma- 



NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS. 13 

jestic Connecticut, glittering in x the sun of 
that October sky, and sweeping around as 
if they loved to linger in the soft bosom of 
those merry green hills. Far in the distance, 
and on all sides, rose an amphitheatre of 
hills, and gently swelling mountains, spotted 
with beautiful farms, and crowned with 
their woody crests, rising tier above tier, and 
stretching away until they seemed to cut the 
azure canopy of heaven. The hours flew 
swiftly by, for, though a boy, I had a soul 
that could feel the beauties of nature. The 
sun, which thus far had been riding through 
a cloudless sky, was just sinking in the west. 
Filled with emotions of sublimity and love, 
while gazing on this magnificent scene, I 
thought of heaven, the home of the blessed, 
and, by association, of my own loved home 
— the bosom of my earthly joys. 

Just then the paternal dwelling met my 
gaze. The cottage gate is opened for my 
reception. The voices of merry ones greet 
2 



14 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

my ear, and I am within the loved precincts 
of home. Anxious inquiries concerning 
health and enjoyment are proffered by her 
who gave me birth. But the appearance of 
all around was altered. In the place of the 
beaming intelligence and glowing affection 
of a mother, appeared alternately the down- 
cast look and the vacant stare, indicating a 
saddened heart and a bewildered mind. I 
was not yet versed in the philosophy of 
mind, and knew not how to interpret the 
change; but it chilled my youthful heart, 
and in perplexity I retired to rest. On the 
succeeding morning, I arose with the dawn 
of the genial light, and descending the stairs, 
the first object that met my gaze was mother. 
She ran with violence, — clasped me in her 
arms, and, with convulsive grasp and choked 
utterance, breathed forth an incoherent, agon- 
izing prayer to God, for the preservation of 
ner first-born son. "O God, save, oh save 
and care for this my boy when I am gone ! " 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 15 

Bewildered, I gazed upon her as she loosed 
her hold, and the fearful truth was disclosed 
by the wild glare of those eyes, accustomed 
only to beam with affection and love, — my 
mother was a maniac ! And who can de- 
scribe all that fearful word imports? — bereft 
of reason — that noble faculty, that off- 1 
spring of Deity, that which gives dignity to 
man, and clothes him with a limited omnip- 
otence. That principle was dethroned, and 
m its dethronement all that constituted a 
mother was lost. 

But though madness had seized her brain, 
still did maternal affection outlive the wreck 
of mind, and anxiety for her offspring ex- 
ceed all other. Who can tell the depths of 
a mother's heart ! Her affection knows no 
ebbing tide. It flows on from a pure foun- 
tain, spreading happiness through all this 
vale of tears, and ceases only at the ocean 
of eternity. It has no semblance on earth. 
It is deeper, stronger, purer, than any other. 



16 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

It cannot be measured, fathomed, or illus- 
trated. It is not exhausted by the advance 
of years. It dries not up because not recip- 
rocated, but gushes forth when it meets no 
return. It is innate with her very being, — 
it glows early and late, — it never tires or 
' decays. It is almost the essence of her very 
life. And is there no design in this ? Why 
this deep, this unquenchable, inexpressible 
love, in a mother's heart? O, it is to her 
maternal care that Providence has intrusted 
an immaterial, immortal being ! Enclosed 
within these mortal caskets are gems of 
purest ray — of undying worth. A pearl of 
precious material is hers to purify, — a dia- 
mond of the richest water is hers to increase 
in brilliancy, — a jewel, designed to deck the 
Saviour's crown, is hers to guard. Within 
these feeble ones are the beginnings of undy- 
ing life, — the buddings of celestial exotics, 
— the blossoms of paradise. Then, moth- 
ers, forget not your duty! When you feel 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 17 

for your child the warm gushings of affec- 
tion, remember, God has placed it there to 
enable you to discharge the important trust 
committed to you, — to sustain your fainting 
heart, as it hangs over the cradle of afflic- 
tion, — to give keenness to that eye which 
watches the erring footsteps of wayward 
youth, and fire to those lips which utter a 
mother's prayer. A holy but responsible 
calling is yours, and often you feel to convert 
the poetical effusions of Willis into senti- 
ments and feelings of your own : 

" I sadden when thou smilest to my smile, 
Child of my love ! I tremble to believe 
That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue 
The shadow of my heart will always pass, — 
A heart that from its struggle with the world 
Comes often to thy guarded cradle home, 
And, careless of the staining dust it brings, 
Asks for its idol. Strange that flowers of earth 
Are visited by every air that stirs, 
And drink in sweetness only, while the child 
That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven 
May take a blemish from the breath of love, 
And bear the blight forever. 

2* B 



18 NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS. 

" I have wept 
With gladness at the gift of this fair child, — 
My life is bound up in her. But, oh God ! 
Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times 
Bears its sweet burden ; and if thou hast given 
To nurture such as thine, this spotless flower, 
And bring it unpolluted unto thee, 
Take thou its love, I pray thee, give it light, 
Though, following the sun, it turn from me. 
But by the chord thus wrung, and by the light 
Shining about her, draw me to my child, 
And link us close, oh God ! when near to heaven." 



CHAPTER III. 

"He who directs our fate, disperses oft, 
In empty air, the purest wish we breathe 
After some golden image of delight, 
And sets a labyrinth where we would walk. 
Deep in the distance of eternity God sees." 

You will observe, in that never-to-be-for- 
gotten prayer of mother, she added what was 
seemingly almost a prophetic declaration. 
After imploring the care of Heaven upon 
her boy, she added, "when I am gone." 
She seemed to feel that soon she should lie 
down to die ; and oh, how fearful was her 
death ! — not of body, for she still lives, a 
wreck of her former self. Thirty long years 
have fled since one ray of reason's sun has 
darted athwart her pathway, and still an 
all-wise Providence withholds that precious 
boon. Calmly and quietly does she now 



20 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

await her last great change. The turbu- 
lent frenzy, which for years controlled her 
acts, is lulled to a quiet repose ; and, with 
idiotic cheerfulness, she amuses herself with 
the baubles of a child, or the idle fancies 
and illusions of the bewildered adult. But 
how much less saddening this state or spe- 
cies of insanity, than that which seems to 
leave the light of the intellect dimly burning 
in the chambers of the brain, while dark 
shadows have fallen upon the moral feelings 
and perceptions of the sufferer, and the heart, 
out of Avhich are "the issues of life," be- 
comes embittered, or filled with vanity and 
vexation of spirit. 

But from either case the mind instinct- 
ively shrinks with dread. The historian 
may describe the decay of empires, the 
wasting of kingdoms, the falling of diadems, 
and the desolation of a land swept by war, 
pestilence and famine ; — the poet may image 
a heart swollen and bursting with the grief 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 2] 

of bereavement, the sighing and wailing of 
earth, making audible the elastic air of 
heaven ; — nay, the ecclesiastic may portray 
death itself, in all its gloominess, and in all 
its dreadfulness ; but nothing presents to me 
so melancholy an aspect as a mind in 
ruins ! What a scene ! What heart will 
not revolt at the sight ! Reason cut loose 
from her anchorings; the imagination filled 
with unearthly images; sensation fled ; per- 
ception enfeebled; consciousness stupefied; 
memory obliterated, and conscience para- 
lyzed, and the complicated machinery of the 
mind taken in pieces and scattered upon the 
waves, to drift into the unknown seas of 
an uncontrolled fancy, or lie becalmed in 
idiocy ! 

Mind is the glory of man, and reason the 
glory of mind ; but, if divested of this, he is 
weaker than helpless infancy. The veiling 
of the sun and the blotting out of the stars 
would fail to enwrap him in such thick 



22 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS. 

darkness. But, from its immateriality, and 
the light which revelation sheds, we learn 
that mind is immortal, — not subject to the 
decays of nature, nor capable of being de- 
stroyed by the calamities of earth. The 
shattered fragments of a mind in ruins shall 
be again collected, adjusted and balanced, 
by that hand which formed it at first. The 
body may be decomposed, but the mind 
survives the wreck. Matter may perish, 
but mind shall endure. 

The ice-bound north, with its crystal 
cities, may crush the frail body; the en- 
tombed fires of the volcano may burst from 
their caverns, and a fiery sea roll over cities 
of life ; the spirit of the storm may shriek in 
fancy's ear, and the confused elements join 
in a requiem over desolation's march; and, 
as the tornado sweeps on, and the red 
lightning's wrath adds terror to the scene, 
and life after life yields to the wild revel of 
the elements ; — though frenzy and despair, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 23 

with all their hideous train of concomitants, 
assume even here the dominion of the mind ; 
— though all these agencies, and ten thou- 
sand more, may conspire to blot man from 
his earthly abode, — mind lives on, vigorous 
and active, unharmed and immortal as its 
all-glorious Creator ! 

We are not always able to connect events 
with their hidden causes ; especially in the 
phenomena of mind, — it is a substance so 
subtle, and so v , intimately and mysteriously 
connected with that which is material ; yet 
some evidences of the origin of insanity, and 
other diseases of this principle, are often 
discernible. 

In the case of mother, it was occasioned 
without any predisposition, produced either 
by hereditary descent or physical derange- 
ment. She had been brought by the power 
of that Spirit which " enlighteneth every 
man that cometh into the world," about 
four weeks previous, to see herself guilty 



24 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

before God, — a criminal at his bar, and 
condemned to death. And by the aid of 
that Spirit, she beheld a substitute in the 
sacrifice of the Son of God. With sincere 
and heart-felt sorrow, she bewailed her of- 
fences and guilt; with humble confidence 
and believing trust, she laid hold on the 
vicariousness of that substitute, and felt its 
efficacy in the removal of the burdensome 
load of guilt which had crushed her to the 
earth. I was not at home, and did not see 
the change produced ; but those who were 
familiar with her at the time speak of it as 
a most blissful transition. Naturally pos- 
sessed of an ardent, happy and peaceful 
temperament, — always pleasant and always 
pleased, — wearing an air of contented cheer- 
fulness, which sat undisturbed upon her 
brow, — there could not be such an evident 
change as in some persons ; for joyousness 
was her characteristic. But the beauty of 
the change was in the sanctification of this 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 25 

contentment, and the raising of her desires 
and hopes from earth to heaven. Before, 
all her happiness was earth-born; now, it 
savored of immortality. Before, it breathed 
only the labored and short-lived gaspings of 
humanity; now, divinity was linked with 
ill its life. Her immortal spirit could no 
onger feed on mortal's food, though ever so 
daintily prepared. She felt and knew the 
contrast between earthly and heavenly hope. 
Earth-born hopes could, indeed, for a season, 
alleviate the difficulties of life, and open to 
view fresh scenes of comfort in the near 
future ; but she knew full well that it lured 
but to bewilder, and dazzled but to blind, — 
that it was mortal and must soon die. But 
now, with Heaven's own aspiring hope, she 
looked beyond the narrow stream of time. 
This life was but the outer court her feet 
must tread to enter within the upper sanc- 
tuary ; this but the stepping-stone to a 
glorious immortality; this but the dress- 
3 c 



26 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

ing-chamber in which she lays aside the 
vestments of sinful mortality, and puts on 
the robe of eternal righteousness. With 
this blissful prospect, she exultingly and tri- 
umphantly gave glory to the Lamb. Never, 
perhaps, did sinful mortal experience a 
higher state of holy joy, when first regen- 
erated. But alas ! her bliss was of short 
duration. 

The prevailing religion of the day was 
that system which elects and reprobates the 
race of man, and which denies every aspir- 
ing certainty of acceptance with God. Her 
experience was of such a nature that she 
knew she had passed from death unto life, 
and spoke with confident assurance of her 
change. On being visited by a worthy cler- 
gyman, who held the above tenets, she, in 
the sanguineness of her first love, confidently 
expressed her acceptance ; when he checked 
her ardor by expressing a doubt of the possi- 
bility of this knowledge; and though we 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 27 

might esteem ourselves among the elect, 
still we might be among the reprobates. 

Her companion, my father, was one of 
the kindest of husbands and fathers, — len- 
ient to a fault, and kind-hearted to a degree 
that bordered on unlimited indulgence. He 
was not, however, a pious or religious man ; 
— one of the world, without God or hope, 
and whose religious belief was in the uni- 
versal salvation of guilty man; — and, as is 
usual with those professing that system, 
secretly despised the operations of the Spirit 
of God upon the heart. He gently sug- 
gested some few absurdities, as he was dis- 
posed to esteem them, in the Christian sys- 
tem, and quoted some passages of Scripture 
which were to him conclusive arguments in 
favor of his much-loved theory. Mother 
was accustomed to esteem his opinion highly, 
and her affection prompted her to deem his 
suggestions worthy of attention. 

Soon the conflicting opinions of her hus- 



28 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

band and pastor, and her own experience, 
became the all-absorbing subject of her med- 
itations, until that peaceful consciousness of 
believing, confiding trust in the Redeemer, 
gradually disappeared, and gloomy darkness 
enshrouded her spirit. Now she contrasted 
this gloom with the peaceful sunlight seren- 
ity which had been her experience a few 
short days previous, and with the painful 
contrast came the settled conviction that she 
was either among the eternally reprobated, 
or had grieved the spirit of that love which 
had so mercifully saved her from the pon- 
derous guilt of sin; that that blessed dove had 
plumed its wings, taken its flight, and left 
her in the dark ; and with this conviction, 
despair, with its raven wings, brooded over 
her spirit, and a mental chaos of long, long 
years succeeded. 

And here I might enlarge on the responsi- 
ble relation of husband and wife. Infinite 
the influence exerted, each over the other. 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 29 

Their interests undivided, how natural that 
a power unlimited over each other's destiny 
should be coexistent with their relation ! 
Then beware how you make the affection 
you bear the basis of an argument to decoy 
the soul from God ! Eternity, with all its 
solemn realities, is often legitimately affected 
by this relation. 
3* 



CHAPTER IT. 

" Providence, that ever-seeing eye, 
Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 
Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe 
Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate." 

To resume my narrative: this was the 
last time we ever met in a family group. 
Home, with all its loved associations and 
holy joys, was now destroyed. The main- 
spring of its mechanism was broken. The 
key which disclosed its treasures was lost. 
The girdle which encircled it was broken, 
and all of which it was composed scattered 
to strangers' homes, to strangers' hearths, 
and to strangers' hearts. Time wore away, 
and brought in its course some transient 
gleams of sunshine and of joy. Childhood, 
so elastic, could not be strained by sorrow to 
its utmost tension, and there remain ; but, 



NARRATIVE. ETC. 31 



springing back to its accustomed cheerfulness, 
brought happiness of an evanescent kind. 
Homes where abundance supplied the meal, 
and benevolent kindness sat as master round 
the loaded table and happy hearth, a kind 
Providence provided for each sorrowing one. 
Occasional meetings of two or three of our 
little group gave a higher zest and keener 
relish to our pleasures. Some of our circle 
were adopted by warm and loving hearts, 
and shared the sympathies of kindly affec- 
tion and glowing love. Being the elder, and 
able to earn my bread by daily toil, I never 
knew again the pleasures of a home. True, 
I always lived among those who seemed to 
have a care for the lonely one ; but, however 
pleasant, it was not home. And here I 
would remark to those who shelter other 
than their own cherished ones, speak kindly 
to that heart, for kindness will heal its 
wounds, and be as balm upon its wounded 
spirit. Let that golden precept be bound as 



32 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

an amulet about your hearts : " Whatsoever 
ye would have others do to you, do ye even 
so to them." Did you realize, as one who 
has experienced and felt its power, the ven- 
eration, gratitude and love, that will ever be 
yours, you surely would aim at kindness 
and considerate care. One who has in a 
stranger's circle experienced the blessings of 
a home, will, down to the last hour of life, 
hold the master of that house in grateful 
remembrance. If prosperity attend his path- 
way, and he become, by a kind Providence, 
among the great of earth, that kindness will 
be ever in memory's storehouse stored. If 
adversity be his portion, he will look back 
to that habitation as one of the greener 
spots of earth. The retrospect will be pleas- 
ing, and the mention of any of that family 
will send a thrill of grateful pleasure through 
the soul, and call forth associations of a 
delightful kind. O ! the magic power of 
kindness, that practical essence of love ! A 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 33 

charm encircles it of brighter halo than all 
earth's honors. To know and feel the 
power of kindness is heaven. 

" Nought is seen 
More beautiful, or excellent, or fair, 
Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen 
In darkest day. And many sounds were sweet, 
Most ravishing and pleasant to the ear, 
But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend, 
Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm. 
Some I remember, and will ne'er forget, 
My early friends — friends of my evil day, 
Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too, 
Friends given by God in mercy and in love." 

How lovely is kindness, and how great its 
benefits upon the stricken ones of earth ! 
Nought else so akin to heaven is dispensed 
so cheaply, — is so beneficial. It imparts 
mutual blessings. It blesseth him that 
gives, and him that receives. Man thrives 
by nourishing his fellow-man. God has de- 
signed that every gift of his should be twice 
blessed, — that it should circulate through 



34 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

society, and be elastic as the breath of 
heaven. And for the encouragement of this 
virtue, God has established it as a fixed 
principle in his moral government, that 
" whatever a man soweth that shall he 
also reap;" — a principle that may be seen 
in operation throughout all the circles of 
society. He who shuts up his bowels of 
compassion, shall receive no compassion. 
He who refuseth to show mercy, shall re- 
ceive no mercy. He that is benevolent, 
shall reap benevolence ; and he that is affec- 
tionate and kind, shall reap affection and 
kindness. O ! if this law were written 
indelibly upon every heart, how soon would 
earth bloom in paradisaical beauty and love! 
How soon would the dove of peace hover 
over and brood the brotherhood of man ! 
Then would sympathy, that connecting link 
in humanity's chain, the intimate attendant 
and twin sister of kindness, lift its consolatory 
form, and smile to see the blissful change in 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 35 

our sin-stricken earth. Then could we sing 
exultingly, 

" We share our mutual woes, 
Our mutual burdens bear, 
While often for each other flows 
The sympathizing tear." 

Then would Goldsmith cense to be acknowl- 
edged a true delineator of friendship's pow- 
er, when he sang 

" And what is friendship but a name, 
A charm that lulls to sleep, 
A shade that follows wealth and fame, 
And leaves the wretch to weep. 5, 

But the few gleams of sunshine were only- 
precursors of a darker hour, — gleams fitful 
and transient. Sorrow, and affliction severe, 
were still mingled in my cup. O ! who can tell 
how little or how much of adversity's bitter 
dregs is in his portion ? Darkness is round 
about the future, and thick darkness hideth 
it from mortal's gaze. 

The youngest of our flock, a tender bud 



36 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

of two years' growth, was at the time of 
mother's derangement adopted by a gentle- 
man and lady of my native town, who had 
no offspring of their own ; and little George 
was again blessed with a mother's care, and 
a father's tender solicitude. How did my 
heart leap for joy, when I learned how kind- 
ly our Father above had provided for the 
little one, — how, when the rude hand of 
adversity compelled his father and mother 
to forsake him, the Lord had taken him 
up ! My heart's affections clung around this 
youngest one, and all the tender sympathies 
of my bpyish nature were bestowed upon 
that fragile flower. He was a lovely boy. 
I see him now, as in childish glee he dances 
o'er his play-house ground. His mild blue 
eye, and raven locks, and snowy brow, and 
pearl-white neck, — his glowing cheeks, and 
merry laugh, and lute-like voice, — will never 
be forgotten. But alas ! the destroyer came, 
and George was not ! O, had disease noise- 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 37 

lessly and silently drank up the fount of 
life — had fever scorched, or consumption 
wasted, — had friends been permitted to 
watch the ebbing tide, to see his last 
sands fall, — then would his death have been 
more endurable, his fate less sad. But not 
so : that tender innocent was met by death 
in a more terrible form. He came in haste, 
and left a mangled corpse. O God ! why, 
oh, why this mysteriously tragical end ? A 
loaded rifle was accidentally discharged by 
a heedless, reckless boy ; its contents pierced 
my brother's lovely frame, — he ran, caught 
the nursery door, — crying "Ma! oh, Ma!" 
— and died ! 

He sleeps now in the lonely church-yard. 
His frame long ere this has mingled with its 
mother earth, and corruption's loathsome 
form has done its utmost. But is this his 
end? is this all of George's history? does 
this sum the whole, — that 
4 



38 NARRATIVE AND ^REFLECTIONS 

" He tasted of life's bitter cup, 
Refused to drink the potion up, 
Then turned his little head aside, 
Disgusted with the taste, and died " ? 

O, no ! this is not all. George lives in end- 
less life. He has dropped the habiliments 
of mortal flesh, and been robed in eternal 
righteousness. He joins now the cherub- 
choir of heaven. He helps to swell the 
anthem of the skies. His voice mingles 
with the holy throng, as in one vast and 
harmonious minstrelsy the strains of praise 
and love arise and fill the arched concave 
of heaven's eternal dome; and as the infant 
church-choir chant the glories of the babe 
of Bethlehem, he sings a higher note of 
joy, that so soon his earthly mission was 
accomplished, and he permitted that bliss- 
ful choir to join, and freed from earth in 
glorious rest to spend a long eternity. Loved 
one, I shed no tears for thee : 

" No. brother, I will not weep, 
Though I may greet thee here no more ; 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 39 

Thy form, now stilled in death's cold sleep, 
The grave a sacred trust shall keep, 
Till ocean surges cease to roar. 

11 Before us thou hast found thy rest, 
Where nought shall e'er disturb thee more. 
In robes of heavenly triumph drest, 
And pillowed on thy Saviour's breast, 
Thy pains, and toils, and cares, are o'er. 

*' A radiant crown bestud with gems 
Rests lightly o'er thy placid brow ; 
A golden harp of tuneful strings, 
Whence, melody celestial springs, 
Employs thy raptured spirit now. 

u To where the patriarch spirits live, 
And near thy unveiled Saviour's throne, 
Where beatific smiles can give 
All thy immortal longings cirave, 
To that bright mansion thou art gone. 

u O then we may not weep for thee ; 
Our tears shall not invade thy rest ; 
But when a few short days shall flee, 
We '11 greet thee in eternity, 
Among the myriads of the blest." 

Hope is the spirit's anchor, and if dragged 
from its moorings, securely rests again in the 



40 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

visions of a brighter day; and though its 
resting-place prove a bed of thorns, still it 
will seek aiK,., ov snot, unwearied and fear- 
less of like fate. Precious boon ! sweetener of 
life's draught, cheerer of life's brightest and 
loveliest visions! Without thy blest light, 
gloom and despair would overwhelm our 
race 

" Amid the ills and woes of life 

That here mankind befall, 
The wild confusion, endless strife, 

The human race enthral, 
How cheering is the brilliant star 

Which Hope to man has given, 
That gleams in splendor from afar, 

And lights hi? path to heaven ! 
Its lustre gilds misfortune o'er, 

Turns darkness into day ; 
Imparts a J03- un known before, 

The joy of ecstasy. 

The hope that mother might regain her 
reason began now to dawn upon us. In 
fancy, we saw our circle, all but the lost 
one, gathered around our domestic hearth; a 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 41 

father and a mother there, and the very fact 
of its endeared association having been 
once broken, gave a higher relish to our 
prospective enjoyment. But fancy paints 
what reality seldom produces. Father had 
conveyed mother to the far-famed Hartford 
Retreat for the Insane; and friends fondly 
believed she would recover. The maladies 
of the mind being better understood now 
than formerly, and more successfully treated, 
we hoped a happy result. A few months 
she had enjoyed the kind treatment of her 
attendants there, when the source of pecun- 
iary means was exhausted. Father, by dint 
of daily toil, had been enabled to see us all 
comfortable in our new homes, and to bear 
the expense of mother's treatment in the 
asylum. But again were all our hopes 
blasted in the bud. An accident occurred, 
by the falling of a load of stones upon his 
limb, which for many months totally dis- 
4* d 



42 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

abled him from labor, and confined him to a 
bed of torture and of pain. 

Reason fled, and he was left to rave in 
constant torture. For weeks he knew not 
the face of friends ; and months ensued ere 
he breathed again the open air of heaven. 
Mother, of course, could no longer enjoy the 
benefits of that institution, and before the 
time arrived when father could again labor, 
she was pronounced irremediable and hope- 
less; and more, that blessed angel, Hope, had 
almost forsaken our pathway, and left our 
companionship. 



CHAPTER V. 

u Wait the result, nor ask, with doubting mind, 
Why God permits such things. His ways, though now 
Involved in clouds and darkness, will appear 
All right, when from thine eyes the mist is cleared. 
Till then, to learn submission to his will, 
More wisdom shows, than vainly thus to attempt 
Exploring what thou canst not comprehend, 
And God, for wisest ends, thinks fit to hide." 

The reader has now been conducted 
through various labyrinths in the history of 
an humble individual, and the mind, perhaps 
cloyed by the enumeration of misfortunes, 
like the weary traveller in the wilderness, is 
anxiously looking for some bright spot to 
break the sad monotony. I have looked for 
this many painful years. Sometimes a tran 
sient opening has admitted the sunbeams, 
and made visible a cloudless sky ; but again 



44 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

the closing forest and trackless wilderness 
have blighted all my earthly hopes. 

Onward, then, with a lonely wanderer. 
You may find instruction and profit in the 
companionship of the afflicted. It is good to 
"weep with those who weep." and "it is 
oetter to go to the house of mourning than to 
the house of feasting." 

I was endowed by my Maker with a 
strong physical frame, and a constitution 
that seemed to bid defiance to every destruc- 
tive agency. But " man in his best estate 
is altogether vanity." Though he may pos- 
sess " giant strength, bones of iron, joints of 
adamant, sinews of brass, and nerves of 
steel," yet he is cut down as a flower, and 
withers lik$ the green herb. 

On the morning of the 11th of September, 
1832, the sun arose in its accustomed glory, 
and poured a flood of light on all the earth 
below, resuscitating each plant and flower, 
and new creating the world, and calling the 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 45 

busy tribes of men to their duties and enjoy- 
ments. With the dawn of that morning, I 
arose to duty, in usual health, with the 
exception of a slight cold ; but with the close 
of that day my earthly toil was done. With 
that setting sun I lay down to rest, no more 
to till the earth in the sweat of my face ; — a 
heavier doom was mine. While walking 
the street, in the city of Hartford, I found 
my strength departing. After completing 
my errand, I endeavored to return ; but, from 
some mysterious cause, my limbs failed to 
do their office, and I reeled to and fro, unable 
to proceed with a walk erect and firm. With 
some assistance, however, I reached home, 
where I seated myself as usual, but soon 
found, to my astonishment, that my arms 
hung powerless by my sides. After receiv- 
ing some refreshment from the Irand of my 
eldest sister, — for I could by no means help 
myself, — I retired to spend a sleepless night, 
and to go no more from my room, until 



46 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

borne upon my couch. That night was one 
of serious reflection and fearful forebodings. 
But not until morning, when I found myself 
unable to move a limb, or even to lift a 
finger, did my condition appear to me in the 
fulness of its reality. A living being, but 
dead to all the world. A living body, with 
limbs that were mere useless appendages. 
Ah ! \thonght I, as the tears coursed down 
my cheeks, the fleeting charms of this world 
are all gone. I am cast forth upon the 
charities of a cold, unfeeling world. I have 
a body, every part of which is keenly sensi- 
tive both to touch and pain ; a tongue that 
can declare my wants, but no power to sup- 
ply them. The wheels of time, perhaps, 
may drag heavily for many years, ere they 
shall have borne me to the termination of 
my journey. What dark, events, hidden by 
a wise Providence, the future might disclose 
to my experience, I knew not. But I must 
gird myself to the shock, and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 47 

" With firm endurance meet the fatal strokes, 
Like storm-scathed hills, or thunder-riven oaks. 
These milder sufferings, more enduring woe, 
That like Tophana's waters poison slow, 
Bring no excitement, potent to sustain, 
Inciting courage, and absorbing pain. 
Such is his lot, in fragile frame arrayed, 
On whom disease her solemn hand has laid." 

But it was in mercy that kind Providence 
concealed the future. Had the veil been 
drawn, and its fearful scenery been opened 
at once to my view, this frame would have 
been crushed ; — the mind could not have 
endured the sight, — it must have sunk into 
despondency, or fallen into desperation. 

While multitudes send forth the voice of 
murmuring and complaint, concerning their 
unavoidable ignorance of the future, and are 
perplexed by the darkness in which they are 
compelled to proceed, and the uncertainty 
which hangs around the issues of their best 
arranged schemes, the thoughtful mind, even 
in this bewildering maze, can trace evi- 



48 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

deuces of Divine goodness. True, it is de- 
sirable to short-sighted man to know what 
is to befall him in life ; but were this knowl- 
edge granted, were the panorama of the 
future, with all its fluctuating scenes, spread 
out before us, it might gratify a vain desire, 
but it could do no more. Indeed, it would be 
incalculably detrimental both to the happi- 
ness and the usefulness of men. If a series 
of prosperous events, and a long career of 
affluence, lay before us, — if our path were 
strewed with flowers, and our life to be 
crowned with honors, — a knowledge of the 
events, and familiarity with the scenes, 
would lessen the enjoyment they were capa- 
ble of affording. The lover of the wild 
scenery of nature gazes upon towering 
mountains, and projecting cliffs, and deep 
ravines, and thundering cataracts, with 
stronger emotions of grandeur and sublim- 
ity than the dweller among those scenes. 
And why? To the one they are familiar, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 49 

and to the other new and strange. Thus 
are we less and less prepared to appreciate 
the blessings allotted to us, just in proportion 
to our previous knowledge of them, and as 
they come upon us more and more as mat- 
ters of course. 

If, on the contrary, we could see the way 
of our pilgrimage strewed with thorns, — 
if our cup were filled with bitterness, — we 
should be unmanned and enervated by the 
knowledge, — become unable to tread our 
dreary pathway, — to endure the weight of 
affliction, or to discharge the duties of life. 

How perfectly disqualified would Job, 
that upright and patient servant of the Most 
High, have been, had he known the calami- 
ties that awaited him ! His heart would 
have melted like wax ; and like Belshazzar 
while in the midst of his revelry an armless 
hand wrote his doom upon the wall, the 
joints of his loins would have been loosed, 
5 e 



50 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

and his knees would have smote one against 
the other. 

Though we may long to know the future, 
and strain the eye in fruitless endeavor to 
scan its' occurrences, yet it is the great truth, 
that we know not what to-morrow shall 
bring forth, that nerves to vigilance and 
energy, and makes us pains-taking and par- 
simonious to-day. 

It is in mercy that Providence has dropped 
the veil, and intercepted the view, disclosing 
events only to momentary experience. And 
as disclosed, if these events are calamitous, 
ignorance of the future leaves ground for 
hope, which sustains under them. If pros- 
perous, the uncertainty and fleeting nature 
of earthly things — the conviction that our 
joys may be transient as a sunbeam, fleet- 
ing as a shadow that departeth, like a 
changing cloud, a gorgeous illusion, a' mist 
on the mountain side — is eminently calulated 
to promote humility, the fairest, loveliest 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 51 

flower that grew in Eden, and to cultivate a 
sense of our entire dependence upon the 
Great Disposer of all events. 

That man may be properly disciplined, 
and escape both despondency and haughty 
insolence, these two ingredients are inter- 
mingled in our cup, and concealed there by 
a hand of wisdom and of love. Each is 
alternately preparatory to the other, and our 
blessings are valued in proportion as they 
are conferred unexpectedly, and after the 
heart has been stricken with sorrow. 

The weary and parched traveller drinks 
of the cooling fountain with a keener relish 
than the dweller in the fertile vale. The 
tempest-tossed mariner treads the earth with 
a higher sense of enjoyment than the man 
who was never rocked upon the heaving 
billow. Health is infinitely more desirable 
after a season of infirmity and pain, and 
spring is vastly more lovely after the gloomi- 
ness and dreariness of winter : — thus prov- 



52 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

ing that our joys are enhanced by the sor- 
rows we experience, and by the uncertainty 
that hangs around us. 

"Itis good," then, that the afflicted believer 
"should both hope and quietly wait for" 
deliverance. It is for him, through grace, to 
acquire the marvellous power of rejoicing in 
tribulation, and, inspired with an unwaver- 
ing trust in God, to adopt the language of 
Habakkuk, " Although the fig-tree shall not 
blossom, neither shall fruit be found in the 
vines ; the labor of the olive shall fail, and 
the fields yield no meat ; the flocks shall be 
cut off from the fold, and there shall be no 
herd in the stalls ; yet will I rejoice in the 
Lord, I will joy in the God of my salva- 
tion," — " knowing that our light affliction, 
which is but for a moment, worketh for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory ; while we look not at the things 
which are seen, but at the things which are 
not seen : for the things which are seen are 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 53 

temporal, but the things which are not seen 
are eternal." 

After being thus reduced to a state of 
utter helplessness, I resorted to remedies. 
The most eminent physicians were called, 
and exhausted all their skill ; but were 
baffled in every effort to ascertain the cause 
or to remove the disease. For more than 
eighteen years, there has remained a per- 
fect and total paralysis of all the muscles of 
volition. A slight motion of the head and 
body is all that could be produced. Find- 
ing that my case was desperate, and bid 
defiance to the whole system of " Materia 
Medica,' ; I endeavored to be composed and 
resigned to my fate. I now began to think 
seriously of my spiritual condition, and 
to throw my thoughts forward into a vast 
eternity, and inquire concerning my probable 
destiny. 

5* 



CHAPTER VI. 

" Child of the promises ! dry up thy tears ; 
Fly to the cross with all thy cares and fears ; 
Beneath the droppings of Christ's precious blood 
Lay down at once thy murmurings and thy load." 

Thus far the reader has plodded with me 
through my earthly pilgrimage. My body, 
frail and feeble, has occupied your attention. 
But now the time is come to lift the spirit's 
veil. 

Being a homeless wanderer, my eternal 
interests were little cared for by others ; and 
often I felt keenly the neglect, and was 
led to say, "No man careth for my soul." 
True, I regularly attended the ministration 
of the word, before my disability, in the Old 
South Church, in the city of Hartford ; but 
the sermons were of such a nature, so much 



NARRATIVE, ETC. 55 

> 

of worldly wisdom, and so little of that pa- 
thos and earnestness that attracts and inter- 
ests the uncultivated mind, that they were 
to me a mere form of words. The cere- 
monies of the house of God were all unmean- 
ing, and their only object, to observe with 
decorum and respect the so-called Sabbath 
of the Lord. But, one Sabbath eve, I wan- 
dered into an obscure prayer-circle. I lis- 
tened with amazement. The prayers there 
offered were the faithful exhibits of earnest 
hearts. Here I felt that there was some- 
thing possessed by this humble band that 
formed my ideal of genuine piety and hoty 
zeal. I saw and realized that a mere formal 
round of ceremonies and devotions was not 
all that constituted religion; but that there 
was life and power in it sufficient to arouse 
the dormant, energies of a sinful soul, and 
cause it to wake to holy joy and spiritual 
life. It seemed that a new era had dawned 
in religious matters ; for I had never heard 



56 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

of things on this wise before. Such interest 
in each other's state, such union of loving 
hearts, and, withal, such unaffected simplic- 
ity ! I felt that the days of primitive 
Christianity had come back to earth. And 
then, such appeals to those who knew not 
God, blended with affectionate, sympathetic 
entreaty, — such a delightful exhibit of the 
pleasures of religion, in contrast with those 
of earth, — of the joys of heaven, and the 
miseries of banishment from God, — I never 
heard before. My heart was not the only 
one that melted under the Spirit's influence. 
I returned from that meeting — but not to 
sleep. That night I offered my first prayer 
to God. In deep contrition of spirit, I be- 
wailed my ingratitude and sin. The good- 
ness of God passed in solemn review before 
me, in contrast with my unholiness and 
guilt. I realized his providential care in 
preserving me to that hour, and lamented 
my ungrateful and disobedient course. In 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 57 

sincerity I recorded my vows, and resolved 
upon a course of holiness and devotion, fully 
determined to seek until I found the pardon- 
ing favor of God. But, alas ! my impres- 
sions were as the early cloud and morning 
dew. I feared the face of clay, and dared 
not declare my intentions by coming out 
from the world, and forsaking its pleasures. 
Gradually these impressions subsided, until I 
sinned as oft as before, and as prayerless 
lived. This was the first direct and power- 
ful influence of the Spirit upon my heart. 
True, I had felt often to yearn for more 
substantial good, for something that could 
fill the soul. Each fondly anticipated good, 
when obtained, was unsatisfying, and was 
soon thrown aside like the useless toy of a 
child. Everything for which I panted, when 
realized, was as a changing cloud, a gorgeous 
illusion, a bubble in the wave. Pleasure 
lured, and I gayly danced along its flowery 
way. Business and ambition beckoned, and 



58 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

I became thoughtlessly absorbrd in their 
perplexities. But each left me insatiate 
and annoyed. Often, when viewing the 
works of nature, and admiring the beautiful 
scenery of the noble Connecticut's lovely 
vale, would a stillness, a sadness, settle down 
upon my spirit, as gently as the waving of a 
harvest-field by the soft zephyrs of a sum- 
mer's eve, soft and genial as the coming of 
morn, that would not wake an infant from 
its slumbers ; and I would involuntarily sigh 
for the waters of the river of life, and desire 
to be led by the good Shepherd into holier, 
lovelier scenes. And then, when the wild ele- 
ments revelled as if intoxicate with wrath, 
— when the red lightnings glared and the 
thunder rolled, — when the tornado swept 
on, and the oak crashed upon the moun- 
tain, — a terror seized upon my frame lest the 
thunders of Divine wrath should leap upon 
me, or the lightnings of vengeance devour 
me. But so blinded and ignorant was I, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 59 

that I little thought these to be the visita- 
tions of the Spirit of grace, — that when this 
pensive sadness pervaded my soul, it was 
the whispering of the Holy Spirit, saying, 
Come, seek substantial good, that which will 
embody, exceed and satisfy, all that is ideal ; 
— come to the waters of life; come, and 
peace, like a river, shall be yours, and joy 
unspeakable and full of glory. I knew not 
that, when filled with terror at the wild revel 
of the elements; that it was God's voice 
speaking in thunder-tones to come away 
from that place of danger, to seek shelter in 
the Rock that was cleft to take me in; to 
come where torrents never flow, where light- 
nings never play or thunders roll ; but where 
peace, tranquillity and love preside, and 
where eternal sunshine settles on the soul. 

Years fled, and sad changes were wrought 
in my physical frame. The sorrows of my 
early youth were nought to this. Even life 
itself was rendered burdensome, and I longed 



60 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

to die. Do you wonder at this, dear reader ? 
What was life to me, since all its active 
scenes were as though they were not? For, 
henceforth I was to be an invalid ; — more 
than this, the power of locomotion was for- 
ever-gone, and I compelled to sit in the same 
position the remnant of my days. 

The hand of God in this I now distinctly 
see. O, how do I adore the riches of his 
grace in employing any mode of operation to 
secure my eternal good ! Perhaps never 
should I have known my sins forgiven, or 
felt his blood applied, if affliction had not 
thus been my portion. Surely it has been to 
me a blessing in disguise ! and I now am 
enabled to say, through grace, "The cup 
that my Father hath given me, shall I not 
drink it? " But I anticipate. 

About three years after I lost the use of my 
limbs, and when hope had almost fled con- 
cerning my recovery, I bethought myself 
of God. Hitherto I had been reckless and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 61 

complaining, caring for nought but returning 
health, dependent upon others for every 
temporal blessing, and no source within of 
peace and comfort. O, wretched state ! 
Destitute of the pleasures of earth or reli- 
gion, why is life prolonged? Better lay 
me down and die, than drag out such a 
miserable existence. The eternal future I 
cared not for, — no future condition can be 
more wretched than this; — and more, when 
life's lamp flickers in its socket, and is ex- 
tinguished by the blast of death, there shall 
be an end of all my sufferings, and I con- 
ducted to the mansions of the blest, for 
" Jesus died the world to save." " For as 
in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all 
be made alive." Thus, you see, I had im- 
bibed, while in health, the belief of my 
father, that all men are unconditionally 
saved. For months I repined and mur- 
mured/ against God, and considered him 

unjust. According to my own theory, that 
6 



62 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

punishment was confined to this life, that it 
always follows immediately the commission 
of sin, I certainly must have been of all 
sinners the chief; for none were so afflicted. 
The inquiry would often arise, What have 
I done to merit punishment so severe? I 
knew I had not obeyed all of God's com- 
mands, but I had never been openly wicked 
or profane. The bacchanalian revel, or ine- 
briate's bowl, was not my resort. The vio- 
lator of God's day, or the profaner of his 
name, were not my companions. I con- 
sidered myself at least tolerably moral and 
upright. Now, here was a problem for me, 
as a Universalist, to solve, — to reconcile 
my creed with my own condition. Again, 
I looked upon the world, and some, who 
were unrighteous, flourished as the green 
bay tree. Earth's treasures showered into 
their coffers, and they had all that heart 
could wish ; while others, who were devoted 
and pious, pined in poverty and neglected 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 63 

solitude. The more I meditated, the more 
fallacious my doctrine appeared ; and soon I 
turned to see what was written in the law 
and testimony. A frame was prepared 
directly in front of me, and by holding a 
pointed wire between my teeth, I was ena- 
bled to turn the leaves, and thus read the 
oracles of truth. I was induced to read, to 
beguile the tediousness of the hours; but 
more strongly, that I might arrive at truth, — 
for my soul panted for a reality of good. I 
commenced the Bible by course, and before 
I had finished, I came to the conclusion 
that 

" The sinner must be born again, 
Or feel the wrath of God." 

When this was settled, I looked to the hills 
whence strength cometh for help. O, how 
earnestly did I pray for the Holy Spirit's 
influence, to soften and subdue ! for as yet 
my judgment only was convinced. No ray 
of hope beamed from the skies, and for 



64 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

weeks I groped in impenetrable night ; but 
still I prayed, and groaned, and agonized. 
The word of God I diligently and prayer- 
fully read, in connection with other works. 
The writings of Josephus were to me wit- 
nesses of the truth of the word of God ; and 
I derived some consolation from the fact 
that I had arrived at the fountain of truth, 
though its efficacy and power had not been 
felt upon my heart. Fox's Book of Martyrs 
was next perused ; and oh, in eternity I shall 
rejoice for its blessed effects ! Hope began 
to dawn. I felt there was a power some- 
where that could remove the load of guilt 
and sin from my burdened heart, — that 
there was something that could cause me, 
even in deep affliction, to rejoice. I was 
conscious that the elements of happiness 
were in one's own bosom, and not necessa- 
rily dependent upon circumstances. If the 
worthy martyrs could rejoice in prospect 
of death in all its horrid forms, — exult 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 65 

in sight of fire and fagot,-— triumph in full 
view of every imaginable invention of tor- 
turous death, — glory in tribulation under 
the fatal blade, and amid the curling flames, 

— surely these light afflictions of mine are 
endurable. My sorrows are not like their 
sorrows, nor my grief like theirs. I am only 
trammelled in body, and that too by one wjio 
has a right thus to do ; but I have the free 
use of religious liberty to serve God accord- 
ing to the dictates of my own conscience, 

— while by men they were deprived of this. 
Let tyrants fetter my body; — let it be torn in 
pieces by wild beasts, — let the rack, and fire, 
and all the instruments of suffering com- 
bined, be put under contribution, — but give 
me the free power of yielding to God accept- 
able service, and mine is the better portion. 
And now I thought that the same power 
that was given to them could be imparted to 
me, — for God is no respectei of persons. 
Cheer up, my soul ! 

6* 



66 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

" Give to the winds thy fears ; 

Hope, and be undismayed ; 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, 

God shall lift up thy head. 
Through waves, and clouds, and storms, 

He gently clears thy way ; 
Wait thou his time, — so shall this night 

Soon end in joyous day." 

About this time, a few pious young men 
of the village where I then resided came 
weekly to my room, and held prayer-meet- 
ings with special reference to my case, 
which, under the blessing of God, were 
instrumental in leading me to the Fountain 
of Life. Soon I was enabled to see light 
begin to dawn, and it gradually brightened 
until I knew that the Sun of Rignteousness 
shed his benign rays upon my heart, and I 
felt the transforming influence. Now, I re- 
joiced in tribulation, and saw distinctly a 
Father's hand in all my pathway, guiding 
and directing, that I might be brought to 
this blessed state. Thus has the heavenly 



OF JUSTIN WELLS* 67 

gardener dug about me, a withered, barren 
fig-tree, until at last the effects are seen. 
But oh, it has been costly digging ! It has 
cost me all earth's pleasures and enjoyments, 
— the loss of limbs, and the loss of health ; 
but what are these in comparison with a 
knowledge of sins forgiven, and the appro- 
bation of Heaven ? Not worthy to be com- 
pared. " Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and 
forget not all his benefits ! "' Since that bliss- 
ful hour, I have been enabled to rejoice in 
prospect of constant disease, infirmity, and 
a premature death, and in anticipation of 
receiving a crown of glory when permitted 
to lay aside these vestments of mortality. I 
am confident there is as bright a crown for 
those who suffer, as for those who do his 
will. Most cheerfully, then, 

" I '11 suffer on my threescore years, 
Till my deliverer come, 
To wipe away his servant's tears, 
And take his exile home." 



68 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

At times my heart has wandered; but 
God has kindly chastened, and I have been 
brought again to give him my best affec- 
tions. 0, the goodness and mercy of God, 
in using such varied means to bring us back 
to his embrace ! And now I am waiting for 
my hour of dissolution, when this earthly 
house shall be taken down, and I shall be 
borne on seraph's wings to mansions of 
bliss ! 

Although comparative bliss was now my 
portion, still I had not suffered all God's 
righteous will. A scene of deep affliction 
was again allotted me. My father had 
borne for twelve years the weight of grief 
occasioned by mother's insanity, and the 
scattering of his household, with fortitude, 
and had ever been a kind father : sympa- 
thizing with us in our sorrows, and rejoicing 
in our prosperity. But at length, a down- 
cast and dejected man, he came to his end 
by drowning, in the town of Manchester, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 65 

Connecticut. In a few short weeks aftei 
this, the youngest of my two sisters sick 
ened and died, leaving a husband and little 
one ; and shortly after, the other sister was 
carried to the tomb. The remains of one 
rest in Glastenbury, and the other in Feed- 
ing-Hills, Mass. Both I hope to meet again 
iii heaven. O, yes ; there will be a reunion ! 
Blessed thought ! Even now I see them 
sweeping the golden harp, and hear them 
swell the anthem of praise to the glorious 
Redeemer ! 

The Bible has taught me to be patient in 
affliction ; and grace has strengthened me 
to endure "as seeing him who is invisible." 
I have learned to "rejoice in the Lord 
always; " to "let my moderation be known 
unto all men," and to feel that " the Lord is 
at hand." I have been instructed, from the 
blessed volume of truth, to "Be careful for 
nothing ; but in everything, by prayer and 
supplication, with thanksgiving, to let my 



70 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

requests be made, known unto God," con- 
scious that " the peace of God which passeth 
all understanding shall keep my heart and 
mind through Christ Jesus." Thanks be to 
God, " I have learned in whatsoever state 
I am, therewith to be content. I know how 
to be abased, and I know how to abound j 
everywhere, and in all things, I am in- 
structed, both to be full and to be hungry, 
both to abound and to suffer need. I can 
do all things through Christ, which strength- 
ened me." 

After despairing of recovering my strength, 
I placed myself under the instruction of 
stern necessity; and found her to be indeed 
u the mother of invention." 

I have stated that, by means of a frame 
attached to my chair, and placed in a proper 
position before me, I was able to read, turn- 
ing the leaves with a pointed wire. I soon 
found that by laying a slate upon the frame, 
I could use a pencil, and form letters or 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 71 

figures. With this facility, I commenced 
the study of mathematics, and prosecuted 
it with success, hoping to realize some pe- 
cuniary aid, to supply my immediate wants; 
but in this respect I failed. It afforded me, 
however, ample pleasure and satisfaction. 
It relieved the monotony of life, and tended 
to discipline the mind to close application, so 
that to this day I feel its effects in the pow- 
er, feeble though it may be, to concentrate 
thought. 

I next applied myself to the science of 
music. I had ever been a lover of music, 
both vocal and instrumental; but not an 
adept in either. The depths of my soul 
have often been stirred while listening to the 
solemn organ's peal, and the chant of voices 
tuned to praise. Nature had bestowed a 
deep bass voice, so that I longed to become 
a proficient. I succeeded so far as to enable 
me to read very readily any composition, 
however difficult; and often has my soul 



72 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

exulted, white, I trust with the spirit, and 
with the understanding also, I have sung 
the praise of God. 

I next discovered, that by holding a pen- 
cil between my teeth, I could write on paper, 
arranging my manuscript with the pointed 
wire attached to my teeth, by means of a 
cord drawn between them, by which it was 
suspended when not in use. I soon at- 
tempted to use a pen in the same manner, 
and by diligent application for nearly a 
year, succeeded in being able to write 
legibly. 

Having thus far overcome difficulties that 
seemed utterly insurmountable, I now con- 
ceived the idea of writing a little book, and 
at once addressed myself to the work. Slow 
and tedious has been the process ; but the 
result is now before the reader, accompanied 
with the earnest desire that the author may 
prove a sun of consolation to some of the 
afflicted ones of earth. 



CHAPTER VII. 

" O what am I, that I should dare arraign 

Thy righteous dealings, Judge of all the earth? 
A rebel and transgressor from my birth, — 

Conceived in sin, — the heir of wrath and pain, 

What cause have I to murmur and complain, 

When thou art pleased to smite ? For hadst thou dealt 
In righteous judgment, I had long since dwelt 

In that abyss where prayer itself, t' obtain 

The slightest mitigation of my doom, 
Were unavailing. Let me rather praise 

Thy patience, that thou dost not yet consume 
So vile a wretch. O no ! Thy word of grace 

Assures me that the deepest wounds I feel 

Are given in mercy, — not to slay, — but heal." 

" God moves in a mysterious way/*' If 
we attempt at all times to trace his provi- 
dences, we find that " clouds and darkness 
are round about him," and from the midst 
we hear a voice saying, " What I do thou 
7 G 



74 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

knowest not now, but thou shalt know here- 
after." However insatiable the desire for 
knowledge which God has implanted in the 
human breast, it is the evident intention of 
its Author that it should not be gratified to 
its utmost extent in the present state of 
being. Though it may ascend to the very- 
footsteps of the eternal throne, yet there it is 
stayed by the glory of him that sits upon it. 
Every subject that passes before the mind 
is to a greater or less extent involved in 
mystery, and utterly beyond our compre- 
hension. Everything that we know brings 
with it something that we cannot know. 
The systems of nature, of grace, and of 
providence, are replete with enigmas. Na- 
ture's varied scenes are spread out before 
us, illustrative of the wisdom, power and 
goodness, of the Creator ; and conduct us, in 
our contemplations, up to " nature's God." 
" The heavens declare the glory of God, 
and the firmament sheweth his handiwork; 



OF JUSTIN WEILS. 75 

day unto day uttereth speech, and night 
unto night showeth knowledge; " but at the 
same time mystery enshrouds all its essences, 
and intercepts our inquiring zeal. " The 
minute and the vast are alike inscrutable. 
We can no more comprehend an insect than 
we can grasp a world. After all the inves- 
tigations of the wise, they have gone but 
a few steps beyond the vulgar. A true 
philosopher will say, in the language of one 
of the brightest ornaments of the philosophic 
school, 'All that we know is, that we know 
nothing.' " Nature, indeed, distinctly points 
out to us a God, but she will reply to none 
of the inquiries which curiosity may dic- 
tate. She says to reason, "Thus far shalt 
thou go, and no further." 

Doubtless, every fact, agent and operation, 
in the natural world, has its design. The 
heaving of the ocean and the uncapping of 
the mountain, the rumbling of the thunder 
and the lightning blazing across the heavens, 



76 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

these mighty agents and events, and the 
minute too, that are scarcely observed by the 
contemplative mind, are not without a pur- 
pose. 

"The zephyr playing with an aspen leaf, — the earthquake 

that rendeth a continent ; 
The moonbeams silvering a ruined arch, — the desert wave 

dashing up a pyramid ; 
The thunder of jarring icebergs, — the stops of a shepherd's 

pipe ; 
The howl of the tiger in the glen, — and the wood-dove call- 
ing to her mate ; 
The vulture's cruel rage, — the grace of the stately swan ; 
The fierceness looking from the lynx's eye, — and the dull 

stupor of the sloth ; — 
To these, and to all, is thire added each its use, though man 

considereth it lightly ; 
For Power hath ordained nothing which Economy saw not 

needful. 5 ' 

And even Revelation itself, which profess- 
edly makes known to us the deep things of 
God, reveals facts, but does not pretend to 
explain the theory of those facts. 

" The Christian's fairh } ad many mysteries too. 
The uncreated holy Three in One ; 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 77 

Divine incarnate ; human in divine ; 
The inward call ; the sanctifying dew, 
Coming unseen, unseen departing thence ; 
Anew creating all, and yet not heard ; 
Mysterious these, — because too large for eye 
Of man, too long for human arm to mete." 

How it is that the invisible spirit of the 
Most High enters the heart of man, and 
accomplishes its work, " creating it anew in 
righteousness and true holiness/ 7 is only 
thus explained : " The wind bloweth where 
it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, 
but canst not tell whence it cometh and 
whither it goeth. So is every one that is 
born of the spirit." 

The most accomplished sceptic and the 
most deep-read infidel, while they may 
cavil at the revealed system of Christianity, 
cannot pretend to account for it or to com- 
prehend it in all its length and breadth; 
and the most deeply-experienced and learned 
believer, while his soul triumphs in the be- 
lief of the Christian scheme, is constrained 
7# 



78 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

to confess that it is too wonderful for him. 
He can comprehend neither the love that 
prompted, the wisdom that conceived, or the 
power that executed it. Not that it contains 
anything contrary to reason, but it is far 
above, and extends infinitely beyond, reason. 
But the mysteries of Providence very far 
transcend those of nature and of grace. 
There are, indeed, evident marks, that God, 
" who sitteth upon the circle of the heavens," 
"ruleth among the children of men;" but 
from our incapacity to understand the whole 
system of his government, we are often 
"involved in perplexity, and the voice of mur- 
muring and complaint is heard concerning 
the Divine dealings. But our perplexity is 
all to be attributed to our ignorance of the 
ways of the Lord. To attempt to penetrate 
the mystery, and understand all the deep and 
sacred designs of the Almighty, is but a 
vain attempt of a finite mind to grasp the 
Infinite, — to comprehend the incomprehen- 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 79 

sible, or to fathom the fathomless. The great 
reason why Providence does not appear to 
pursue a regular and consistent plan, — why 
virtue is not always crowned with temporal 
prosperity, and vice invariably attended with 
temporal misery, — is, that God has to deal 
with an ungrateful and rebellious race, and 
at the same time govern them as moral 
agents. There are, indeed, palpable evi- 
dences that God approves virtue and intends 
a reward ; ' that he disapproves vice, and 
designs punishment. These evidences are to 
be traced both in our physical frame and in 
our mental nature. The blushing cheek, the 
tremulous and abashed eye, the trembling 
hand, and convulsed frame, are indexes of 
the guilt that exists in the heart, and are 
designed to betray the offender. The brow 
calm, the eye serene, and the frame com- 
posed, are designed as marks of innocence, 
which God has affixed to the physical sys- 
tem. 



80 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

In the mind God has erected his own tri- 
bunal. He has placed conscience there, in 
its high office of observing all the actions of 
men, and all their thoughts and motives, 
and endowed it with the marvellous power 
of uttering its voice so as to be heard above 
the din of the human passions, consoling the 
upright with its approval, sanctioned by the 
Most High, and infusing gall into the sweet- 
est cups of the offending and rebellious, 
upbraiding them with remorseful reflections 
and fearful forebodings of coming vengeance. 

But while this is admitted as rational and 
consistent truth, there are many isolated 
events which appear to be exceptions, and 
from which the conclusion is drawn by the 
superficial observer, that chance rules the 
world. These instances are those in which 
the wicked are allowed to prosper in the 
things of this world, until " their eyes stand 
out with fatness, and they have more than 
heart can wish," while the virtuous and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. .81 

devoted are compelled to repine in indi- 
gence, and mourn the absence of the bless- 
ings of Providence. Criminals often escape 
undetected and unpunished, while the heav- 
iest calamities fall upon the innocent and 
unoffending. The wicked live many years, 
to execute their plans of evil, while the 
righteous are often cut down in the midst 
of their career of usefulness, or adversity 
blights their fairest prospects, and consigns 
them to obscurity and suffering. Virtuous 
youth, and helpless, harmless infancy, are 
by no means shielded from the relentless 
hand of the destroyer. Earthquakes and 
floods, famine and pestilence, are commis- 
sioned to sweep away indiscriminately the 
innocent and the guilty. The unoffending 
infant is selected by the destroyer as his vic- 
tim. In his iron grasp it writhes and 
groans, but writhes and groans in vain. It 
lifts up its infant wailing, but the foe has no 
heart to feel. Its pensive moan and bitter 



82 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

complaint, together with fond parents' tears 
and, prayers, are alike disregarded. At 
length the fragile frame yields to the stroke, 
the labored breath grows short, and yet 
shorter still; the dimly burning taper that 
lit its cherub face is extinguished, and the 
lovely innocent is no more. Is it because of 
the sins of the sufferer, that a righteous 
Judge has permitted this ? No ; it has com- 
mitted no sin; it has not known good or 
evil. Though God, in this instance, has 
acted as a ruler, yet has he "held back the 
face of his throne, and spread his cloud 
upon it." 

We see next a lovely and vigorous youth, 
flushed with hope, and full of cheerfulness 
and joy. He has been the object of parents' 
solicitude,— a father's counsel and a mother's 
prayers. Mental and moral culture have 
been bestowed without measure. He is 
qualified for the highest stations of influence 
and usefulness. With this high endowment 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 83 

he goes forth, his glad heart beating with 
the throb of enthusiasm as his eye rests upon 
the whitened fields all ready for the harvest, 
which he hopes, with the Divine blessing, to 
gather into the garner of the Lord. But to- 
morrow that foot-tread ceases to be heard. 
That large heart has ceased to beat. Those 
bright prospects are vanished. That spirit, 
that panted to bring souls under the domin- 
ion of Christ, has taken its flight, and there 
is left only a mass of mouldering clay. Con- 
templating the event, we are constrained to 
confess that the Governor of the universe is 
a "God that hideth himself." — "Clouds and 
darkness are round about him. His way is 
in the sea, and his path in the great waters ; 
his footsteps are not known." 

These events are mysteries, that no wis- 
dom, however profound, unaided from above, 
can solve. But with the light of revelation, 
and with the history of the past before us, 
we may rationally conclude that they are 



84 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

not controlled by caprice, — that they are 
not left to roll on by mere chance, neither 
occasioned or permitted by one who is 
regardless of men, qr who rules as a tyrant. 

Vain man would be wise. He would 
choose his own path. But if allowed to do 
so, though the path of his choice might be 
strewed with flowers, and the blessings of 
his selection innumerable, he would inevita- 
bly be ruined. We are strongly inclined to 
pray ardently to be delivered from affliction ; 
and yet the Scriptures reveal affliction as 
necessary, that we may be properly disci- 
plined for that world where affliction is no 
more. We are so ignorant of ourselves, and 
of the circumstances that surround us, that 
we know not what to ask at the hand of 
the Lord, or what will in the end prove a 
blessing. 

By reason of his ignorance, what an error 
was committed by Lot, when he chose for 
his residence the plain of Jordan, because it 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 85 

was well watered, even as the garden of the 
Lord ; which was afterward overthrown for 
the wickedness of the inhabitants, and he 
lost all his possessions, together with the 
partner of his youth, and himself and daugh- 
ters narrowly escaped ! How little did Jacob, 
though so pious a servant of God, know, 
when he said of the providential arrange- 
ment by which his household was to be sus- 
tained in the years of famine, '"All these 
things are against me!" How ignorant was 
Elijah when he fled from Jezebel, and 
requested for himself that he^ might die, — 
Peter, when he would have dissuaded the 
Lord from suffering, — and the disciples, 
when they would have called down fire 
from heaven to consume the city of the 
Samaritans ! 

And hence, because of our incompetency, 
the Lord has graciously reserved the selec- 
tion of providences with himself. " In the 
hand of the Lord there is a cup; it is full of 
8 



86 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

mixture, and the wine is red. He poureth it 
out." He imparts favors as we can bear 
them, and afflictions, disappointments and 
bereavements, as they are necessary for our 
correction, reproof and profit. The great 
reason of the mystery connected with provi- 
dential occurrences is, that we know only in 
part. We trace only here and there an 
event ; and not being able to know its design, 
or its connection with other events, it is a 
total mystery. If a complicated piece of 
machinery were taken in pieces, and scat- 
tered to the four corners of the earth, and a 
traveller, ignorant of the whole, were to take 
up a separate part, not knowing its design, 
the relation it sustained to others, or the 
power it was designed to exert over others, 
it would be perfectly mysterious to him. 
But, let the scattered parts be collected and 
placed in their proper position before him, 
and allow him then to see the whole in op- 
eration, and the mystery will be developed. 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 87 

Thus with the events of providence. We 
find them separate and alone. We see one 
lifted up, and another, equally virtuous, cast 
down ; and we can by no means solve the 
mystery. But could we cast off the dark- 
ness that enshrouds us, — could we rise to 
some eminence above the capacity of finite 
beings, and, with an eye that could compre- 
hend all things, see as God sees, and under- 
stand as he understands, — we should discover 
that, with the wisdom worthy of a God, he 
is controlling the universe ; — we should be 
constrained to adore the wisdom and the 
ways of God, — "O the depth of the riches 
both of the wisdom and the knowledge of 
God; — how unsearchable are his judgments, 
and his ways past finding out ! " 

It is obvious that the present is a state of 
probation, — that God does not ordinarily 
punish sin immediately upon its commission, 
nor reward the deeds of virtue as they are 
performed. And if we were not left in a 



88 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

measure ignorant of the Divine ways, no 
room would be left for the exercise of faith. 
Knowledge would take its place, and we 
must necessarily be deprived of the rich 
reward which is bestowed upon him who 
trusts in His word. 
' God designs that his mighty working 
should produce an effect, not upon a single 
individual merely, nor even a single genera- 
tion — but that each event should be felt in 
coming ages, down to the close of time. 

How little did Abraham know of God's 
wise and merciful design, when, after declar- 
ing to him, "In Isaac shall thy seed be 
called, and in him shall all nations of the 
earth be blessed," he issued the command, 
" Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, 
whom thou lovest, and get thee into the 
mountain of Moriah, and offer him up there 
for a burnt-offering upon one of the moun- 
tains that I shall tell thee of! " And it was 
not until, in obedience to the command, he 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 89 

had ascended the mountain, and built an 
altar, and laid the wood in order, and bound 
Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar 
upon the wood, and lifted the knife to slay 
his son, that the mystery was in any meas- 
ure developed. Tracing it as an event of 
history, we can now see the grand design. 
It was to prove that patriarch, — to call out 
and exhibit the power of his faith for the 
benefit of the world. 

How little would the world ever have 
known of the extent to which patience might 
be exercised in affliction, had not God per- 
mitted Job to fall into the hands of his ene- 
my, and caused the account to be recorded 
for our instruction ! We learn the power of 
faith to triumph over all calamities from the 
numerous instances recorded in the Scrip- 
tures of the ancient worthies, " who, through 
faith, subdued kingdoms, wrought righteous- 
ness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths 
of lions, quenched the violence of fire, 
8* h 



90 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

escaped the edge of the sword, out of weak- 
ness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, 
turned to flight the armies of the aliens." 

Murmur not, then, at the dispensations of 
providence ! If the wicked are left to pros- 
per in their wickedness, — if "they are not 
in trouble as other men, neither are they 
plagued like other men — if their pride com- 
passeth them about as a chain, and violence 
covereth them as a garment," — go with Da- 
vid into the sanctuary of the Lord, and un- 
derstand their end. Know thou that with 
Dives they are receiving their good things, 
and are permitted to prosper in this life, 
that, despising the riches of Divine grace, 
their ruin may be more conspicuous, and 
their end more terrible; — while it is in the 
season of the deepest affliction that God is 
pledged to be with the believer, to deliver 
him, and honor him. It is then that he 
finds cause to break into the song, "It is 
good for me that I was afflicted; for the 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 91 

Lord will command his loving-kindness in 
the day-time, and in the night his song shall 
be with me." 

This is a subject which, for many years, 
that I have spent in solitude, has occupied 
my thoughts. I have learned wisdom by 
the things that I have suffered. I have 
learned to bow submissively under the hand 
of God, — to reverence his ways, — to ac- 
knowledge the supreme authority of his 
word ; and to adore where I cannot compre- 
hend^ and to wait patiently for eternity to 
break the seal, disclose mysteries, and open 
to the eager gaze that book which will 
ever be unfolding the providential dealings 
of God. O, that History of histories, which 
records what wonders God has wrought, to 
keep men back from the pit, and conduct 
them to himself ! 

Then I may learn that a kind mother 
was bereft of reason here, that she might be 
crowned with glory hereafter ; that she was 



92 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

suffered to live a wandering maniac, that 
the proud hearts of sons and daughters 
might be humbled; — that the tender bud 
of glory was violently cut down, that it 
might not drink in the pestilential miasma 
of earth, and bear the blight forever; and 
then by angels was borne home with joy, 
to shed its fragrance in heaven. Sisters 
were stricken down, with some wise de- 
sign, that I shall then understand. And as 
for myself, I shall learn, as I now feel, that 
God has dealt mercifully with me. I re- 
fused to walk in his ordinances, and he 
came and paralyzed these limbs, that I 
should not walk at all upon his footstool ; — 
I would not employ my hands in his ser- 
vice, and he smote them like the barren fig- 
tree, that, withered and shrivelled as they 
are, they should not be employed in the 
service of sin. I lifted my puny arm against 
the authority of Heaven, and powerless it 
fell, to be lifted no more. I refused to yield 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 93 

obedience to the commands of God, and the 
storm of vengeance was gathering, and the 
clouds of wrath were marshalling them- 
selves, to pour their furious artillery, upon 
my head forever ; and the hand of the Lord 
was laid upon me, that I might be bowed 
down under it, until the storm of danger 
should pass over. My mental and moral 
powers were left unharmed. Bereft of all 
other, and made to see and to feel my feeble- 
ness, these I consecrated to God; — poor and 
unworthy the offering, but it is all I have, 
and God requires no more. Now, " I know 
whom I have believed, and I am persuaded 
that he is able to keep that which I have 
committed to his care unto that day." Let 
the turbid waters of affliction roll high, and 
let their angry billows dash and break 
around me, — let the storms of adversity 
come down and beat in all their fury upon 
my head ! My anchor is within the vail ; 
and, through grace, I shall not be moved. 



94 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

And if, by slowly rolling years, " this earthly 
house of my tabernacle be dissolved, I have 
a building of God, an house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens." 

When I think of the scenes through which 
I have passed, my heart saddens ; but hith- 
erto God hath sustained me, and I have 
abundant reason to magnify the riches of 
his grace, and to adore his matchless wis- 
dom, in bringing exiles home. 

The future is full of pleasing anticipa- 
tions, and images more lovely than fancy 
can paint. They are opened to view by 
revelation and grace. " Eye hath not seen / 
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the 
heart of man, the things which God hath 
prepared for those that love him.'* I see a 
fond and affectionate mother, clothed in her 
right mind, and bearing the image of the 
heavenly ; an infant brother, walking b} 
the "river of life/' and causing the atmos- 
phere of heaven to tremble with his songs 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 95 

of praise ; I see sisters, clothed in white, 
and plucking '-ambrosial fruit that grows 
on life's fair tree;"' and all the members of a 
severed family that have been renewed by 
grace, and endure to the end, shall meet 
again; the family bond will again be united. 
He who hath scattered shall send forth his 
angels, and gather his saints from the four 
corners under heaven. u Many shall come 
from the east and west, and shall sit down 
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the 
kingdom of heaven." Then shall these dor- 
mant and paralyzed limbs feel the flow of 
vigor and of health, and through grace, 1 
shall, with an elastic step, walk the streets 
of the Holy City, and, with the multitude 
that have come up through great tribulation, 
cause heaven's high dome to ring with the 
melody of the exalted and triumphant song, 
" Unto him that loved us, and washed us 
from our sins in his own blood, and hath 
made us kings and priests unto God and his 



96 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

Father ; to him be glory and dominion, for 
ever and ever ! Amen." 

" I bless thee, Father, that thy breath has given 

Existence unto me, a broken reed ; 
That, midst the griefs by which life's ties are riven, 

Thou hast bestowed me strength in time of need ; 
Thy hand upheld me when my heart was fraught 

With griefs that wrung my full heart to the core ; 
Though I perceived not, 't was thy hand that brought 

The "balm of Gilead " to the festering sore. 

M I bless thee, Father, for the sunlight streaming. 

Like golden showers, on forest, hill and dome ; 
And for the blessed stars, like watch-fires gleaming 

On heaven's high walls, to light us to our home 
And for each little flower that lifts its cup 

Of gentle beauty through the emerald sod, 
Sending its perfume — Nature's incense — up 

Unto thy throne, I bless thee, oh my God ! 

" I bless thee, Father, for the light which shinelh, 

Clear and unbroken, on life's rugged way — 
A ray from thy pure throne, which ne'er declineth, 

But ever brightens till the perfect day ; 
That thou hast taught my heart to be content — 

My weary soul to suffer and be still — 
A pilgrim I, who patiently must wait, 

Till I have done on earth my Master's will." 



NARRATIVE 



AND 



REFLECTIONS 



O* 



JUSTIN WELLS. 

V 

COMPILED FROM MANUSCRIPTS WRITTEN BY HTMSEL1. 

FOURTH THOUSAND. 



BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED FOR THE PROPRIETOR, 

BY C. H. PEIRCE. 

1852. 

I 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 

G. C WELLS, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



Stereotyped by 

HOBART k ROBBIXS, 

BOSTON. 



PREFACE. 



The author of this narrative is an invalid. More 
than eighteen years since, he became the victim of 
disease, which has produced a perfect and total paraly- 
sis of all the muscles of volition. A slight motion of 
the head and body is all of which he is capable. The 
faculties of the mind and the vocal organs remain unim- 
paired. In such a state of helplessness he has written 
this volume, by having the manuscript laid on a frame 
attached to the front of his chair, and holding the pen 
in his teeth, as represented in the engraving. 

It has been a slow and laborious work, confining him 
more than a year to almost incessant toil. 

It is now offered to the public, with the hope that it 
may be rendered a blessing to many ; and that the suf- 
ferer may derive some pecuniary aid in his affliction. 

The author is aware that so strange a method of 
writing will appear incredible ; hence, the following 



rr PREFACE. 

certificates, proffered by respectable gentlemen of the 
town of Colchester, Connecticut, — the place of his 
residence, — are here inserted. 

I hereby certify, that I have visited Mr. Justin Wells, a 
man afflicted as he states, and wholly deprived of the use of 
his limbs. I have also seen him write, by holding his pen 
with his teeth, in a slow and toilsome way, and am fully per- 
suaded that he can write in no other, not being able to use 
arms, or hands, or feet, in any degree whatever. 

ALBERT F. PARK, 
Pastor of the M. E. Church in Colchester. 
Colchester, Conn., Aug. 19, 1850. 

I hereby certify that I have seen Mr. Justin Wells write. 
I know that his manner of holding a pen is as represented in 
the accompanying engraving, and that all his writing is done 
in the same way, — he not having the least use of his hands. 

J. B. WHEELER. 

Colchester, Conn., Aug. 15, 1850. 



CHAPTER I. 

" Lulled in the countless chaml>ers of the brain, 
Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain ; 
Awake but one, and lo ! what myriads rise — 
Each stamps its image as the other flies. 
Each, as the varied avenues of sense 
Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, 
Brightens or fades ; yet all, with magic art, 
Control the latent fibres of the heart." 

The delightful and romantic town of 
Hebron, Conn., is hallowed in memory as 
the place of my birth, and the scenes of my 
early youth. Of all others, that spot is in- 
vested with perennial joys and unfading 
bliss. It is consecrated by the gambols of 
childhood, and the nurture of tender age. 
The voices of my playmates, and the wild 
fancies of youth, are there. It was there I 
chased the gay butterfly in the fields, Us- 
1* 



6 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

tened to the gay notes of birds, and plucked 
the blooming flowers, to inhale their fra- 
grance. Like a dream when the morning 
is come, the scenes of home now all rush 
upon the mind. And thither, when age has 
mantled my temples with the hoar-frosts of 
time, shall I delight, with these palsied 
limbs, to repair, and sit down among the 
graves of those I love, and weep. There, 
in the buoyancy of youthful hope, the future 
spread out its vast panorama of pleasure, 
usefulness, and delight. Its unexplored re- 
gions, its ample fields, and beautiful groves, 
which were to be traversed in my coming 
threescore years and ten, were to me all 
that poetry could describe in imagery, or 
pencil paint in fancy. The sportive scenes 
of childhood were but the vestibule through 
which I must pass to the inner temple of 
experience and usefulness. And how has 
my little heart panted with glowing enthu- 
siasm and ardent longings, when thinking 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 7 

of the future! The future — that mysteri- 
3iis book, of which but a page, a sentence, 
i line, is disclosed at once, and which, as 
lisclosed, often blights our fairest prospects, 
destroys our most sanguine hopes, and chills 
our most blissful expectations. 

An unbroken group was ours. A father 
who had a father's heart, a mother who 
lived only for her loved ones, four warm- 
hearted brothers, and two lovely sisters, 
together with myself, the elder, constituted 
our happy circle. Providence dealt but 
sparingly with her temporal gifts; yet did 
no splendid mansion, with luxury loaded 
table, afford more affectionate or happy 
hearts. Poverty, however, with its lean 
and haggard and filthy face, was not a 
resident or guest within our humble home ; 
for blessings procured by the honest, indus- 
trious labor of a father, with the frugal care 
and unspotted neatness of a mother, gave an 
aspect of comfort and easy independence to 



8 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

our lowly habitation. Many buildings of 
beautiful architecture, costly material, and 
imposing aspect, would be passed by the 
traveller with less pleasure and interest 
than our jessamine cottage ; for the ivy and 
honeysuckle, the morning-glory, and hum- 
ble violet, together with a great variety of 
the poor man's horticultural specimens, were 
abundantly profuse. Exotics rich, dahlias, 
cactuses, and geraniums, would have as 
illy become our home, as jewels on a beg- 
gar's gown. But Nature, always lavish, 
always kind, supplied their place ; and, 
trained by the tasteful hand of mother, our 
cottage garden was filled with humble flow- 
ers, which perfumed the atmosphere with 
what was to us almost celestial fragrance. 

Thus sweetly passed twelve happy years, 
— years of unsullied bliss — of pleasure un- 
alloyed. How swiftly did they speed ! And 
though the glowing aspirations of youth 
would have fain transported me to the time 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 9 

when I should be a man ; yet so peaceful, 
so tranquil, was our home, gladly would 1 
have remained there until time had silvered 
my locks, furrowed my cheeks, palsied my 
limbs; and there, in that loved spot, laid me 
down to die. My ardent longings for com- 
ing usefulness and honor would have quietly 
resigned their position to the stronger love 
of home. Life then was as a summer's day, 
in whose sunbeam I sported as playfully as 
the insect on its tiny wing, — as an unruffled 
sea, upon whose smooth and tranquil sur- 
face I reposed, unmindful of clouds or 
storms, — as the pleasant day-dream of an 
excited fancy, upon whose pinions I soared 
in ecstasy, — as the clear, cloudless sunlight 
of one constant, ever-during day. 

But alas ! this bright summer's day was 
followed by a long and gloomy night, — a 
night without moon or stars, — a night upon 
which the sun has not risen for weeks, for 
monthsj for years. This calm, unruffled 



10 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

sea has been lashed to a dreadful storm, 
and the tempest dashed its fury against my 
frail bark, almost to its perishing. This 
fanciful day-dream has become, in its oppo- 
site, a sad reality, and life, by adversity's 
chill blasts, become a dreary waste, — a 
wilderness of sorrow and of grief. I have 
found this to be a mixed world ; — a world of 
joy and sorrow; a world of prosperity and 
adversity; a world of health and disease; 
a world of life and death. O, ye who have 
dreamed of nought but shady paths, and 
sunny scenes, and bubbling springs, and 
placid seas, and gentle zephyrs, will find 
yourselves deceived, as the events of life 
come on ! The cup of which you drink is 
a mingled one ; the path in which you tread 
alike yields thorns and flowers. Enjoyment, 
says one, is indestructible ; and were it not 
for this, how little of pleasure would be 
mingled in my cup ! Forty-two years have 
fled since first I saw the light ; and oh ! did 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 11 

not memory recall those twelve bright years 
of early youth, drear indeed would be the 
retrospect. Sunny spots, oases in my life's 
landscape, " are like angels' visits, few and 
far between." But often now, while this 
emaciated frame and useless limbs are racked 
with pain, do I repair to my once blissful 
home. Again the happy group is met ; the 
voices of those I love most on earth are 
stealing with heaven's own music on my ear, 
and, fresh with youthful vigor and glowing 
hope, I seem to live again in the bright 
visions of the past. 



CHAPTER II. 

n O lore ! thy visitings of earth are ever, ever brief, 
As summer's evanescent flowers, or autumn's fading leaf; 
We clasp thee to our throbbing hearts, and wildly, vainly cling 
To cherished idol-forms of clay, — frail, fragile, withering." 

But a change has come over the spirit of 
my dream. My pen almost refuses to per- 
form its office, and gladly would I blot 
from my mind's tablet the mysterious event 
which proved destructive to earth's enjoy- 
ments, and severed the links which so close- 
ly bound our circle. 

After an absence of a few weeks from 
home, I started, one fine afternoon, to return. 
My route lay through the midst of one of 
the loveliest of New England's many lovely 
scenes. Far below, on their ocean-ward 
journey, danced the clear waters of the ma- 



NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS. 13 

jestic Connecticut, glittering in the sun of 
that October sky, and sweeping around as 
if they loved to linger in the soft bosom of 
those merry green hills. Far in the distance, 
and on all sides, rose an amphitheatre of 
hills, and gently swelling mountains, spotted 
with beautiful farms, and crowned with 
their woody crests, rising tier above tier, and 
stretching away until they seemed to cut the 
azure canopy of heaven. The hours flew 
swiftly by, for, though a boy, I had a soul 
that could feel the beauties of nature. The 
sun, which thus far had been riding through 
a cloudless sky, was just sinking in the west. 
Pilled with emotions of sublimity and love, 
while gazing on this magnificent scene, I 
thought of heaven, the home of the blessed, 
and, by association, of my own loved home 
— the bosom of my earthly joys. 

Just then the paternal dwelling met my 
gaze. The cottage gate is opened for my 
reception. The voices of merry ones greet 
2 



14 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

my ear, and I am within the loved precincts 
of home. Anxious inquiries concerning 
health and enjoyment are proffered by her 
who gave me birth. But the appearance of 
all around was altered. In the place of the 
beaming intelligence and glowing affection 
of a mother, appeared alternately the down- 
cast look and the vacant stare, indicating a 
saddened heart and a bewildered mind. I 
was not yet versed in thk philosophy of 
mind, and knew not how to interpret the 
change; but it chilled my youthful heart, 
and in perplexity I retired to rest. On the 
succeeding morning, I arose with the dawn 
of the genial light, and descending the stairs, 
the first object that met my gaze was mother. 
She ran with violence, — clasped me in her 
arms, and, with convulsive grasp and choked 
utterance, breathed forth an incoherent, agon- 
izing prayer to God, for the preservation of 
ner first-born son. "O God, save, oh save 
and care for this my boy when I am gone ! " 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 15 

Bewildered, I gazed upon her as she loosed 
her hold, and the fearful truth was disclosed 
by the wild glare of those eyes, accustomed 
only to beam with affection and love, — my 
mother was a maniac ! And who can de- 
scribe all that fearful word imports? — bereft 
of reason — that noble faculty, that off- 
spring of Deity, that which gives dignity to 
man, and clothes him with a limited omnip- 
otence. That principle was dethroned, and 
in its dethronement all that constituted a 
mother was lost. 

But though madness had seized her brain, 
still did maternal affection outlive the wreck 
of mind, and anxiety for her offspring ex- 
ceed all other. Who can tell the depths of 
a mother's heart ! Her affection knows no 
ebbing tide. It flows on from a pure foun- 
tain, spreading happiness through all this 
vale of tears, and ceases only at the ocean 
of eternity. It has no semblance on earth. 
It is deeper, stronger, purer, than any other. 



16 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

It cannot be measured, fathomed, or illus- 
trated. It is not exhausted by the advance 
of years. It dries not up because not recip- 
rocated, but gushes forth when it meets no 
return. It is innate with her very being, — 
it glows early and late, — it never tires or 
decays. It is almost the essence of her very 
life. And is there no design in this ? Why 
this deep, this unquenchable, inexpressible 
love, in a mother's heart? O, it is to her 
maternal care that Providence has intrusted 
an immaterial, immortal being ! Enclosed 
within these mortal caskets are gems of 
purest ray — of undying worth. A pearl of 
precious material is hers to purify, — a dia- 
mond of the richest water is hers to increase 
in brilliancy, — a jewel, designed to deck the 
Saviour's crown, is hers to guard. Within 
these feeble ones are the beginnings of undy- 
ing life, — the buddings of celestial exotics, 
— the blossoms of paradise. Then, moth- 
ers, forget not your duty! When you feel 



OF JUSTIN WELLS, 17 

for your child the warm gushings of affec- 
tion, remember, God has placed it there to 
enable you to discharge the important trust 
committed to you, — to sustain your fainting 
heart, as it hangs over the cradle of afflic- 
tion, — to give keenness to that eye which 
watches the erring footsteps of wayward 
youth, and fire to those lips which utter a 
mother's prayer. A holy but responsible 
calling is yours, and often you feel to convert 
the poetical effusions of Willis into senti- 
ments and feelings of your own : 

" I sadden when thou smilest to my smile, 
Child of my love ! I tremble to believe 
That o'er the mirror of that eye of blue 
The shadow of my heart will always pass, — 
A heart that from its struggle with the world 
Comes often to thy guarded cradle home, 
And, careless of the staining dust it brings, 
Asks for its idol. Strange that flowers of earth 
Are visited by every air that stirs, 
And drink in sweetness only, while the child 
That shuts within its breast a bloom for heaven 
May take a blemish from the breath of love, 
And bear the blight forever. 

2* B 



18 NARRATIVE OF JUSTIN WELLS. 

fC I have wept 
With gladness at the gift of this fair child, — 
My life is bound up in her. But, oh God ! 
Thou know'st how heavily my heart at times 
Bears its sweet burden ; and if thou hast given 
To nurture such as thine, this spotless flower, 
And bring it unpolluted unto thee, 
Take thou its love, I pray thee, give it light, 
Though, following the sun, it turn from me. 
But by the chord thus wrung, and by the light 
Shining about her, draw me to my child, 
And link us close, oh God ! when near to heaven." 



CHAPTER III. 

"He who directs our fate, disperses oft, 
In empty air, the purest wish we breathe 
After some golden image of delight, 
And sets a labyrinth where we would walk. 
Deep in the distance of eternity God sees." 

You will observe, in that never-to-be-for- 
gotten prayer of mother, she added what was 
seemingly almost a prophetic declaration. 
After imploring the care of Heaven upon 
her boy, she added, " when I am gone." 
She seemed to feel that soon she should lie 
down to die ; and oh, how fearful was her 
death ! — not of body, for she still lives, a 
wreck of her former self. Thirty long years 
have fled since one ray of reason's sun has 
darted athwart her pathway, and still an 
all-wise Providence withholds that precious 
boon. Calmly and quietly does she now 



20 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

await her last great change. The turbu- 
lent frenzy, which for years controlled her 
acts, is lulled to a quiet repose ; and, with 
idiotic cheerfulness, she amuses herself with 
the baubles of a child, or the idle fancies 
and illusions of the bewildered adult. But 
how much less saddening this state or spe- 
cies of insanity, than that which seems to 
leave the light of the intellect dimly burning 
in the chambers of the brain, while dark 
shadows have fallen upon the moral feelings 
and perceptions of the sufferer, and the heart, 
out of which are "the issues of life," be- 
comes embittered, or filled with vanity and 
vexation of spirit. 

But from either case the mind instinct- 
ively shrinks with dread. The historian 
may describe the decay of empires, the 
wasting of kingdoms, the falling of diadems, 
and the desolation of a land swept by war, 
pestilence and famine ; — the poet may image 
a heart swollen and bursting with the grief 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 21 

of bereavement, the sighing and wailing of 
earth, making audible the elastic air of 
heaven ; — nay, the ecclesiastic may portray 
death itself, in all its gloominess, and in all 
its dreadfulness ; but nothing presents to me 
so melancholy an aspect as a mind in 
ruins ! What a scene ! What heart will 
not revolt at the sight ! Reason cut loose 
from her anchorings; the imagination filled 
with unearthly images; sensation fled ; per- 
ception enfeebled; consciousness stupefied; 
memory obliterated, and conscience para- 
lyzed, and the complicated machinery of the 
mind taken in pieces and scattered upon the 
waves, to drift into the unknown seas of 
an uncontrolled fancy, or lie becalmed in 
idiocy ! 

Mind is the glory of man, and reason the 
glory of mind ; but, if divested of this, he is 
weaker than helpless infancy. The veiling 
of the sun and the blotting out of the stars 
would fail to enwrap him in such thick 



22 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS. 

darkness. But, from its immateriality, and 
the light which revelation sheds, we learn 
that mind is immortal, — not subject to the 
decays of nature, nor capable of being de- 
stroyed by the calamities of earth. The 
shattered fragments of a mind in ruins shall 
be again collected, adjusted and balanced, 
by that hand which formed it at first. The 
body may be decomposed, but the mind 
survives the wreck. Matter may perish, 
but mind shall endure. 

The ice-bound north, with its crystal 
cities, may crush the frail body; the en- 
tombed fires of the volcano may burst from 
their caverns, and a fiery sea roll over cities 
of life ; the spirit of the storm may shriek in 
fancy's ear, and the confused elements join 
in a requiem over desolation's march ; and, 
as the tornado sweeps on, and the red 
lightning's wrath adds terror to the scene, 
and life after life yields to the wild revel of 
the elements ; — though frenzy and despair, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 23 

with all their hideous train of concomitants, 
assume even here the dominion of the mind ; 
— though all ihese agencies, and ten thou- 
sand more, may conspire to blot man from 
his earthly abode, — mind lives on, vigorous 
and active, unharmed and immortal as its 
all-glorious Creator ! 

We are not always able to connect events 
with their hidden causes ; especially in the 
phenomena of mind, — it is a substance so 
subtle, and so intimately and mysteriously 
connected with that which is material ; yet 
some evidences of the origin of insanity, and 
other diseases of this principle, are often 
discernible. 

In the case of mother, it was occasioned 
without any predisposition, produced either 
by hereditary descent or physical derange- 
ment. She had been brought by the power 
of that Spirit which " enlighteneth every 
man that cometh into the world," about 
four weeks previous, to see herself guilty 



24 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

before God, — a criminal at his bar, and 
condemned to death. And by the aid of 
that Spirit, she beheld a substitute in the 
sacrifice of the Son of God. With sincere 
and heart-felt sorrow, she bewailed her of- 
fences and guiit; with humble confidence 
and believing trust, she laid hold on the 
vicariousness of that substitute, and felt its 
efficacy in the removal of the burdensome 
load of guilt which had crushed her to the 
earth. I was not at home, and did not see 
the change produced ; but those who were 
familiar with her at the time speak of it as 
a most blissful transition. Naturally pos- 
sessed of an ardent, happy and peaceful 
temperament, — always pleasant and always 
pleased, — wearing an air of contented cheer- 
fulness, which sat undisturbed upon her 
brow, — there could not be such an evident 
change as in some persons; for joyousness 
was her characteristic. But the beauty of 
the change was in the sanctification of this 
J 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 25 

contentment, and the raising of her desires 
and hopes from earth to heaven. Before, 
all her happiness was earth-born; now, it 
savored of immortality. Before, it breathed 
only the labored and short-lived gaspings of 
humanity; now, divinity was linked with 
all its life. Her immortal spirit could no 
longer feed on mortal's food, though ever so 
daintily prepared. She felt and knew the 
contrast between earthly and heavenly hope. 
Earth-born hopes could, indeed, for a season, 
alleviate the difficulties of life, and open to 
view fresh scenes of comfort in the near 
future ; but she knew full well that it lured 
but to bewilder, and dazzled but to blind, — 
that it was mortal and must soon die. But 
now, with Heaven's own aspiring hope, she 
looked beyond the narrow stream of time. 
This life was but the outer court her feet 
must tread to enter within the upper sanc- 
tuary ; this but the stepping-stone to a 
glorious immortality; this but the dress- 
3 o 



26 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

ing-chamber in which she lays aside the 
vestments of sinful mortality, and puts on 
the robe of eternal righteousness. With 
this blissful prospect, she exultingly and tri- 
umphantly gave glory to the Lamb. Never, 
perhaps, did sinful mortal experience a 
higher state of holy joy, when first regen- 
erated. But alas ! her bliss was of short 
duration. 

The prevailing religion of the day was 
that system* which elects and reprobates the 
race of man, and which denies every aspir- 
ing certainty of acceptance with God. Her 
experience was of such a nature that she 
knew she had passed from death unto life, 
and spoke with confident assurance of her 
change. On being visited by a worthy cler- 
gyman, who held the above tenets, she, in 
the sanguineness of her first love, confidently 
expressed her acceptance ; when he checked 
her ardor by expressing a doubt of the possi- 
bility of this knowledge; and though we 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 27 

might esteem ourselves among the elect, 
still we might be among the reprobates. 

Her companion, my father, was one of 
the kindest of husbands and fathers, — len- 
ient to a fault, and kind-hearted to a degree 
that bordered on unlimited indulgence. He 
was not, however, a pious or religious man ; 
— one of the world, without God or hope, 
and whose religious belief was in the uni- 
versal salvation of guilty man; — and, as .is 
usual with those professing that system, 
secretly despised the operations of the Spirit 
of God upon the heart. He gently sug- 
gested some few absurdities, as he was dis- 
posed to esteem them, in the Christian sys- 
tem, and quoted some passages of Scripture 
which were to him conclusive arguments in 
favor of his much-loved theory. Mother 
was accustomed to esteem his opinion highly, 
and her affection prompted her to deem his 
suggestions worthy of attention. 

Soon the conflicting opinions of her hus- 



28 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

band and pastor, and her own experience, 
became the all-absorbing subject of her med- 
itations, until that peaceful consciousness of 
'believing, confiding trust in the Redeemer, 
gradually disappeared, and gloomy darkness 
enshrouded her spirit. Now she contrasted 
this gloom with the peaceful sunlight seren- 
ity which had been her experience a few 
short days previous, and with the painful 
contrast came the settled conviction that she 
was either among the eternally reprobated, 
or had grieved the spirit of that love which 
had so mercifully saved her from the pon- 
derous guilt of sin; that that blessed dove had 
plumed its wings, taken its flight, and left 
her in the dark ; and with this conviction, 
despair, with its raven wings, brooded over 
her spirit, and a mental chaos of long, long 
years succeeded. 

And hei;e I might enlarge on the responsi- 
ble relation of husband and wife. Infinite 
the influence exerted, each over the other. 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 29 

Their interests undivided, how natural that 
a power unlimited over each other's destiny 
should be coexistent with their relation ! 
Then beware how you make the affection 
you bear the basis of an argument to decoy 
the soul from God! Eternity, with all its 
solemn realities, is often legitimately affected 
by this relation. 
3* 



CHAPTER IV. 

" Providence, that ever-seeing eye, 
Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 
Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe 
Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate." 

To resume my narrative : this was the 
last time we ever met in a family group. 
Home, with all its loved associations and 
holy joys, was now destroyed. The main- 
spring of its mechanism was broken. The 
key which disclosed its treasures was lost. 
The girdle which encircled it was broken, 
and all of which it was composed scattered 
to strangers' homes, to strangers' hearths, 
and to strangers' hearts. Time wore away, 
and brought in its course some transient 
gleams of sunshine and of joy. Childhood, 
so elastic, could not be strained by sorrow to 
its utmost tension, and there remain; but, 



NARRATIVE, ETC. 31 

springing back to its accustomed cheerfulness, 
brought happiness of an evanescent kind. 
Homes where abundance supplied the meal, 
and benevolent kindness sat as master round 
the loaded table and happy hearth, a kind 
Providence provided for each sorrowing one. 
Occasional meetings of two or three of our 
little group gave a higher zest and keener 
relish to our pleasures. Some of our circle 
were adopted by warm and loving hearts, 
and shared the sympathies of kindly affec- 
tion and glowing love. Being the elder, and 
able to earn my bread by daily toil, I never 
knew again the pleasures of a home. True, 
I always lived among those who seemed to 
have a care for the lonely one ; but, however 
pleasant, it was not home. And here I 
would remark to those who shelter other 
than their own cherished ones, speak kindly 
to that heart, for kindness will heal its 
wounds, and be as balm upon its wounded 
spirit. Let that golden precept be bound as 



32 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

an amulet about your hearts : " Whatsoever 
ye would have others do to you, do ye even 
so to them." Did you realize, as one who 
has experienced and felt its power, the ven- 
eration, gratitude and love, that will ever be 
yours, you surely would aim at kindness 
and considerate care. One who has in a 
stranger's circle experienced the blessings of 
a home, will, down to the last hour of life, 
hold the master of that house in grateful 
remembrance. If prosperity attend his path- 
way, and he become, by a kind Providence, 
among the great of earth, that kindness will 
be ever in memory's storehouse stored. If 
adversity be his portion, he will look back 
to that habitation as one of the greener 
spots of earth. The retrospect will be pleas- 
ing, and the mention of any of that family 
will send a thrill of grateful pleasure through 
the soul, and call forth associations of a 
delightful kind. O ! the magic power of 
kindness, that practical essence of love ! A 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 33 

charm encircles it of brighter halo than all 
earth's honors. To know and feel the 
power of kindness is heaven. 

" Nought is seen 
More beautiful, or excellent, or fair, 
Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen 
In darkest day. And many sounds were sweet, 
Most ravishing and pleasant to the ear, 
But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend, 
Sweet always, sweetest heard in loudest storm. 
Some I remember, and will ne'er forget, 
My early friends — friends of my evil day, 
Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too, 
Friends given by God in mercy and in love." 

How lovely is kindness, and how great its 
benefits upon the stricken ones of earth ! 
Nought else so akin to heaven is dispensed 
so cheaply, — is so beneficial. It imparts 
mutual blessings. It blesseth him that 
gives, and him that receives. Man thrives 
by nourishing his fellow-man. God has de- 
signed that every gift of his should be twice 
blessed, — that it should circulate through 



34 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

society, and be elastic as the breath of 
heaven. And for the encouragement of this 
virtue, God has established it as a fixed 
principle in his moral government, that 
" whatever a man soweth that shall he 
also reap ; " — a principle that may be seen 
in operation throughout all the circles of 
society. He who shuts up his bowels of 
compassion, shall receive no compassion. 
He who refuseth to show mercy, shall re- 
ceive no mercy. He that is benevolent, 
shall reap benevolence ; and he that is affec- 
tionate and kind, shall reap affection and 
kindness. O! if this law were written 
indelibly upon every heart, how soon would 
earth bloom in paradisaical beauty and love! 
How soon would the dove of peace hover 
over and brood the brotherhood of man ! 
Then would sympathy, that connecting link 
in humanity's chain, the intimate attendant 
and twin sister of kindness, lift its consolatory 
form, and smile to see the blissful change in 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 35 

our sin-stricken earth. Then could we sing 
exultingly, 

" We share our mutual woes, 
Our mutual burdens bear, 
While often for each other flows 
The sympathizing tear." 

Then would Goldsmith cease to be acknowl- 
edged a true delineator of friendship's pow- 
er, when he sang 

" And what is friendship but a name, 
A charm that lulls to sleep, 
A shade that follows wealth and fame, 
And leaves the wretch to weep." 

But the few gleams of sunshine were only 
precursors of a darker hour, — gleams fitful 
and transient. Sorrow, and affliction severe, 
were still mingled in my cup. O ! who can tell 
how little or how much of adversity's bitter 
dregs is in his portion ? Darkness is round 
about the future, and thick darkness hideth 
it from mortal's gaze. 
The youngest of our flock, a tender bud 



36 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

of two years' growth, was at the time of 
mother's derangement adopted by a gentle- 
man and lady of my native town, who had 
no offspring of their own ; and little George 
was again blessed with a mother's care, and 
a father's tender solicitude. How did my 
heart leap for joy, when I learned how kind- 
ly our Father above had provided for the 
little one, — how, when the rude hand of 
adversity compelled his father and mother 
to forsake him, the Lord had taken him 
up ! My heart's affections clung around this 
youngest one, and all the tender sympathies 
of my boyish nature were bestowed upon 
that fragile flower. He was a lovely boy. 
I see him now, as in childish glee he dances 
o'er his play-house ground. His mild blue 
eye, and raven locks, and snowy brow, and 
pearl-white neck, — his glowing cheeks, and 
merry laugh, and lute-like voice, — will never 
be forgotten. But alas ! the destroyer came, 
and George was not ! O, had disease noise- 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 37 

lessly and silently drank up the fount of 
life — had fever scorched* or consumption 
wasted, — had friends been permitted to 
watch the ebbing tide, to see his last 
sands fall, — then would his death have been 
more endurable, his fate less sad. But not 
so : that tender innocent was met by death 
in a more terrible form. He came in haste, 
and left a mangled corpse. O God ! why, 
oh, why this mysteriously tragical end ? A 
loaded rifle was accidentally discharged by 
a heedless, reckless boy ; its contents pierced 
my brother's lovely frame, — he ran, caught 
the nursery door, — crying "Ma! oh, Ma!" 
— and died ! 

He sleeps now in the lonely church-yard. 
His frame long ere this has mingled with its 
mother earth, and corruption's loathsome 
form has done its utmost. But is this his 
end? is this all of George's history? does 
this sum the whole, — that 
4 



38 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

" He tasted of life's bitter cup, 
Refused tq drink the potion up, 
Then turned his little head aside, 
Disgusted with the taste, and died " ? 

O, no ! this is not all. George lives in end- 
less life. He has dropped the habiliments 
of mortal flesh, and been robed in eternal 
righteousness. He joins now the cherub- 
choir of heaven. He helps to swell the 
anthem of the skies. His voice mingles 
with the holy throng, as in one vast and 
harmonious minstrelsy the strains of praise 
and love arise and fill the arched concave 
of heaven's eternal dome ; and as the infant 
church-choir chant the glories of the babe 
of Bethlehem, he sings a higher note of 
joy, that so soon his earthly mission was 
accomplished, and he permitted that bliss- 
ful choir to join, and freed from earth in 
glorious rest to spend a long eternity. Loved 
one, I shed no tears for thee : 

" No. brother, I will not weep, 
Though 1 may greet thee here no more \ 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 39 

Thy form, now stilled in death's cold sleep, 
The grave a sacred trust shall keep, 
Till ocean surges cease to roar. 

" Before us thou hast found thy rest, 
Where nought shall e'er disturb thee more. 
In robes of heavenly triumph drest, 
And pillowed on thy Saviour's breast, 
Thy pains, and toils, and cares, are o'er. 

*' A radiant crown bestud with gems 
Rests lightly o'er thy placid brow ; 
A golden harp of tuneful strings, 
Whence melody celestial springs, 
Employs thy raptured spirit now. 

" To where the patriarch spirits live, 
And near thy unveiled Saviour's throne, 
Where beatific smiles can give 
All thy immortal longings crave, 
To that bright mansion thou art gone. 

" O then we may not weep for thee ; 
Our tears shall not invade thy rest ; 
But when a few short days shall flee, 
We '11 greet thee in eternity, 
Among the myriads of the blest." 

Hope is the spirit's anchor, and if dragged 
from its moorings, securely rests again in the 



40 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

visions of a brightei day; and though its 
resting-place prove a bed of thorns, still it 
will seek aiiw. °^ snot, unwearied and fear- 
less of like fate. Precious boon ! sweetener of 
life's draught, cheerer of life's brightest and 
loveliest visions! Without thy blest light, 
gloom and despair would overwhelm our 
race 

" Amid the ills and woes of life 

That here mankind befall, 
The wild confusion, endless strife, 

The human race enthral, 
How cheering is the brilliant star 

Which Hope to man has given, 
That gleams in splendor from afar, 

And lights his path to heaven ! 
Its lustre gilds misfortune d'er, 

Turns darkness into day ; 
Imparts a joy unknown before, 

The joy of ecstasy. 

The hope that mother might regain her 
reason began now to dawn upon us. In 
fancy, we saw our circle, all but the lost 
one, gathered around our domestic hearth; a 



OF JUSTIN WELLS* 41 

father and a mother there, and the very fact 
of its endeared association having been 
once broken, gave a higher relish to our 
prospective enjoyment. But fancy paints 
what reality seldom produces. Father had 
conveyed mother to the far-famed Hartford 
Retreat for the Insane; and friends fondly 
believed she would recover. The maladies 
of the mind being better understood now 
than formerly, and more successfully treated, 
we hoped a happy result. A few months 
she had enjoyed the kind treatment of her 
attendants there, when the source of pecun- 
iary means was exhausted. Father, by dint 
of daily toil, had been enabled to see us all 
comfortable in our new homes, and to bear 
the expense of mother's treatment in the 
asylum. But again were all our hopes 
blasted in the bud. An accident occurred, 
by the falling of a load of stones upon his 
limb, which for many months totally dis- 
4* d 



43 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

abled him from labor, and confined him to a 
bed of torture and of pain. 

Reason fled, and he was left to rave in 
constant torture. For weeks he knew not 
the face of friends ; and months ensued ere 
he breathed again the open air of heaven. 
Mother, of course, could no longer enjoy the 
benefits of that institution, and before the 
time arrived when father could again labor, 
she was pronounced irremediable and hope- 
less; and more, that blessed angel, Hope, had 
almost forsaken our pathway, and left our 
companionship. 



-CHAPTER V. 

11 Wait the result, nor ask, with doubting mind, 
Why God permits such things. His ways, though now 
Involved in clouds and darkness, will appear 
All right, when from thine eyes the mist is cleared. 
Till then, to learn submission to his will, 
More wisdom shows, than vainly thus to attempt 
Exploring what thou canst not comprehend, 
And God, for wisest ends, thinks fit to hide." 

The reader has now been conducted 
through various labyrinths in the history of 
an humble individual, and the mind, perhaps 
cloyed by the enumeration of misfortunes, 
like the weary traveller in the wilderness, is 
anxiously looking for some bright spot to 
break the sad monotony. I have looked for 
this many painful years. Sometimes a tran 
sient opening has admitted the sunbeams, 
and made visible a cloudless sky ; but again 



44 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

the closing forest and trackless wilderness 
have blighted all my earthly hopes. 

Onward, then, with a lonely wanderer. 
You may find instruction and profit in the 
companionship of the afflicted. It is good to 
"weep with those who weep," and "it is 
oetter to go to the house of mourning than to 
the house of feasting." 

I was endowed by my Maker with a 
strong physical frame, and a constitution 
that seemed to bid defiance to every destruc- 
tive agency. But "man in his best estate 
is altogether vanity." Though he may pos- 
sess " giant strength, bones of iron, joints of 
adamant, sinews of brass, and nerves of 
steel," yet he is cut down as a flower, and 
withers like the green herb. 

On the morning of the 11th of September, 
1832, the sun arose in its accustomed glory, 
and poured a flood of light on all the earth 
below, resuscitating each plant and flower, 
and new creating the world, and calling the 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 45 

busy tribes of men to their duties and enjoy- 
ments. With the dawn of that morning, I 
arose to duty, in usual health, with the 
exception of a slight cold ; but with the close 
of that day my earthly toil was done. With 
that setting sun I lay down to rest, no more 
to till the narth in the sweat of my face ; — a 
heavier doom was mine. While walking 
the street, in the city of Hartford, I found 
my strength departing. After completing 
my errand, I endeavored to return ; but, from 
some mysterious cause, my limbs failed to 
do their office, and I reeled to and fro, unable 
to proceed with a walk erect and firm. With 
some assistance, however, I reached home, 
where I seated myself as usual, but soon 
found, to my astonishment, that my arms 
hung powerless by my sides. After receiv- 
ing some refreshment from the hand of my 
eldest sister, — for I could by no means help 
myself, — I retired to spend a sleepless night, 
and to go no more from my room, until 



46 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

borne upon my couch. That night was one 
of serious reflection and fearful forebodings. 
But not until morning, when I found myself 
unable to move a limb, or even to lift a 
finger, did my condition appear to me in the 
fulness of its reality. A living being, but 
dead to all the world. A living body, with 
limbs that were mere useless appendages. 
Ah! thought I, as the tears coursed down 
my cheeks, the fleeting charms of this world 
are all gone. I am cast "forth upon the 
charities of a cold, unfeeling world. I have 
a body, every part of which is keenly sensi- 
tive both to touch and pain ; a tongue that 
can declare my wants, but no power to sup- 
ply them. The wheels of time, perhaps, 
may drag heavily for many years, ere they 
shall have borne me to the termination of 
my journey. What dark events, hidden by 
a wise Providence, the future might disclose 
to my experience, I knew not. But I must 
gird myself to the shock, and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 47 

" With firm endurance meet the fatal strokes, 
Like storm-scathed hills, or thunder-riven oaks. 
These milder sufferings, more enduring woe, 
That like Tophana's waters poison slow, 
Bring no excitement, potent to sustain, 
Inciting courage, and absorbing pain. 
Such is his lot, in fragile frame arrayed, 
On whom disease her solemn hand has laid." 

But it was in mercy that kind Providence 
concealed the future. Had the veil been 
drawn, and its fearful scenery been opened 
at once to my view, this frame would have 
been crushed ; — the mind could not have 
endured the sight, — it must have sunk into 
despondency, or fallen into desperation. 

While multitudes send forth the voice of 
murmuring and complaint, concerning their 
unavoidable ignorance of the future, and are 
perplexed by the darkness in which they are 
compelled to proceed, and the uncertainty 
which hangs around the issues of their best 
arranged schemes, the thoughtful mind, even 
in this bewildering maze, can trace evi- 



48 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

dences of Divine goodness. True, it is de- 
sirable to short-sighted man to know what 
is to befall him in life ; but were this knowl- 
edge granted, were the panorama of the 
future, with all its fluctuating scenes, spread 
out before us, it might gratify a vain desire, 
but it could do no more. Indeed, it would be 
incalculably detrimental both to the happi- 
ness and the usefulness of men. If a series 
of prosperous events, and a long career of 
affluence, lay before us, — if our path were 
strewed with flowers, and our life to be 
crowned with honors, — a knowledge of the 
events, and familiarity with the scenes, 
would lessen the enjoyment they were capa- 
ble of affording. The lover of the wild 
scenery of nature gazes upon towering 
mountains, and projecting cliffs, and deep 
ravines, and thundering cataracts, with 

stronger emotions of grandeur and sublim- 

• 

ity than the dweller among those scenes. 

And why? To the one they are familiar, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 49 

and to the other new and strange. Thus 
are we less and less prepared to appreciate 
the blessings allotted to us, just in proportion 
to our previous knowledge of them, and as 
they come upon us more and more as mat- 
ters of course. 

If, on the contrary, we could see the way 
of our pilgrimage strewed with thorns, — 
if our cup were filled with bitterness, — we 
should be unmanned and enervated by the 
knowledge, — become unable to tread our 
dreary pathway, — to endure the weight of 
affliction, or to discharge the duties of life. 

How perfectly disqualified would Job, 
that upright and patient servant of the Most 
High, have been, had he known the calami- 
ties that awaited him ! His heart would 
have melted like wax ; and like Belshazzar 
while in the midst of his revelry an armless 
hand wrote his doom upon the wall, the 
joints of his loins would have been loosed, 
5 e 



50 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

and his knees would have smote one against 
the other. 

Though we may long to know the future, 
and strain the eye in fruitless endeavor to 
scan its occurrences, yet it is the great truth, 
that we know not what to-morrow shall 
bring forth, that nerves to vigilance and 
energy, and makes us pains-taking and par- 
simonious to-day. 

It is in mercy that Providence has dropped 
the veil, and intercepted the view, disclosing 
events only to momentary experience. And 
as disclosed, if these events are calamitous, 
ignorance of the future leaves ground for 
hope, which sustains under them. If pros- 
perous, the uncertainty and fleeting nature 
of earthly things — the conviction that our 
joys may be transient as a sunbeam, fleet- 
ing as a shadow that departeth, like a 
changing cloud, a gorgeous illusion, a mist 
on the mountain side — is eminently calulated 
to promote humility, the fairest, loveliest 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 51 

flower that grew in Eden, and to cultivate a 
sense of our entire dependence upon the 
Great Disposer of all events. 

That man may be properly disciplined, 
and escape both despondency and haughty 
insolence, these two ingredients are inter- 
mingled in our cup, and concealed there by 
a hand of wisdom and of love. Each is 
alternately preparatory to the other, and our 
blessings are valued in proportion as they 
are conferred unexpectedly, and after the 
heart has been stricken with sorrow. 

The weary and parched traveller drinks 
of the cooling fountain with a keener relish 
than the dweller in the fertile vale. The 
tempest-tossed mariner treads x the earth with 
a higher sense of enjoyment thafi the man 
who was never rocked upon the heaving 
billow. Health is infinitely more desirable 
after a season of infirmity and pain, and 
spring is vastly more lovely after the gloomi- 
ness and dreariness of winter : — thus prov- 



52 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

ing that our joys are enhanced by the sor- 
rows we experience, and by the uncertainty 
that hangs around us. 

"It is good," then, that the afflicted believer 
"should both hope and quietly wait for" 
deliverance. It is for him, through grace, to 
acquire the marvellous power of rejoicing in 
tribulation, and, inspired with an unwaver- 
ing trust in God, to adopt the language of 
Habakkuk, "Although the fig-tree shall not 
blossom, neither shall fruit be found in the 
vines ; the labor of the olive shall fail, and 
the fields yield no meat ; the flocks shall be 
cut off from the fold, and there shall be no 
herd in the stalls; yet will I rejoice in the 
Lord, I will joy in the God of my salva- 
tion," — "knowing that our light affliction, 
which is but for a moment, worketh for us 
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of 
glory ; while we look not at the things 
which are seen, but at the things which are 
not seen : for the things which are seen are 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 53 

temporal, but the things which are not seen 
are eternal." 

After being thus reduced to a state of 
utter helplessness, I resorted to remedies. 
The most eminent physicians were called, 
and exhausted all their skill ; but were 
baffled in every effort to ascertain the cause 
or to remove the disease. For more than 
eighteen years, there has remained a per- 
fect and total paralysis of all the muscles of 
volition. A slight motion of the head and 
body is all that could be produced. Find- 
ing that my case was desperate, and bid 
defiance to the whole system of " Materia 
Medica,'" I endeavored to be composed and 
resigned to my fate. I now began to think 
seriously of my spiritual condition, and 
to throw my thoughts forward into a vast 
eternity, and inquire concerning my probable 
destiny. 

5* 



CHAPTER VI. 

" Child of the promises ! dry up thy tears ; 
Fly to the cross with all thy cares and fears ; 
Beneath the droppings of Christ's precious blood 
Lay down at once thy murmurings and thy load." 

Thus far the reader has plodded with me 
through my earthly pilgrimage. My body, 
frail and feeble, has occupied your attention. 
But now the time is come to lift the spirit's 
veil. 

Being a homeless wanderer, my eternal 
interests were little cared for by others ; and 
often I felt keenly the neglect, and was 
led to say, "No man careth for my soul." 
True, I regularly attended the ministration 
of the word, before my disability, in the Old 
South Church, in the city of Hartford ; but 
the sermons were of such a nature, so much 



NARRATIVE, ETC. 55 

of worldly wisdom, and so little of that pa- 
thos and earnestness that attracts and inter- 
ests the uncultivated mind, that they were 
to me a mere form of words. The cere- 
monies of the house of God were all unmean- 
ing, and their only object, to observe with 
decorum and respect the so-called Sabbath 
of the Lord. But, one Sabbath eve, I wan- 
dered into an obscure prayer-circle. I lis- 
tened with amazement. The prayers there 
offered were the faithful exhibits of earnest 
hearts. Here I felt that there was some- 
thing possessed by this humble band that 
formed my ideal of genuine piety and holy 
zeal. I saw and realized that a mere formal 
round of ceremonies and devotions was not 
all that constituted religion ; but that there 
was life and power in it sufficient to arouse 
the dormant energies of a sinful soul, and 
cause it to wake to holy joy and spiritual 
life. It seemed that a new era had dawned 
in religious matters ; for I had never heard 



56 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

of things on this wise before. Such interest 
in each other's state, such union of loving 
hearts, and, withal, such unaffected simplic- 
ity ! I felt that the days of primitive 
Christianity had come back to earth. And 
then, such appeals to those who knew not 
God, blended with affectionate, sympathetic 
entreaty, — such a delightful exhibit of the 
pleasures of religion, in contrast with those 
of earth, — of the joys of heaven, and the 
miseries of banishment from God, — I never 
heard before. My heart was not the only 
one that melted under the Spirit's influence. 
I returned from that meeting — but not to 
sleep. That night I offered my first prayer 
to God. In deep contrition of spirit, I be- 
wailed my ingratitude and sin. The good- 
ness of God passed in solemn review before 
me, in contrast with my unholiness and 
guilt. I realized his providential care in 
preserving me to that hour, and lamented 
my ungrateful and disobedient course. In 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 57 

sincerity I recorded my vows, and resolved 
upon a cou rse of holiness and devotion, fully 
determined to seek until I found the pardon- 
ing favor of God. But, alas ! my impres- 
sions were as the early cloud and morning 
dew. I feared the face of clay, and dared 
not declare my intentions by coming out 
from the world and forsaking its pleasures. 
Gradually these impressions subsided, until I 
sinned as oft as before, and as prayerless 
lived. This was the first direct and power- 
ful influence of the Spirit upon my heart. 
True, I had felt often to yearn for more 
substantial good, for something that could 
fill the soul. Each fondly anticipated good, 
when obtained, was unsatisfying, and was 
soon thrown aside like the useless toy of a 
child. Everything for which I panted, when 
realized, was as a changing cloud, a gorgeous 
illusion, a bubble in the wave. Pleasure 
lured, and I gayly danced along its flowery 
way. Business and ambition beckoned, and 



58 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

I became thoughtlessly absorbed in their 
perplexities. But each left me insatiate 
and annoyed. Often, when viewing the 
works of nature, and admiring the beautiful 
scenery of the noble Connecticut's lovely 
vale, would a stillness, a sadness, settle down 
upon my spirit, as gently as the waving of a 
harvest-field by the soft zephyrs of a sum- 
mer's eve, soft and genial as the coming of 
morn, that would not wake an infant from 
its slumbers ; and I would involuntarily sigh 
for the waters of the river of life, and desire 
to be led by the good Shepherd into holier, 
lovelier scenes. And then, when the wild ele- 
ments revelled as if intoxicate with wrath, 
— when the red lightnings glared and the 
thunder rolled, — when the tornado swept 
on, and the oak crashed upon the moun- 
tain, — a terror seized upon my frame lest the 
thunders of Divine wrath should leap upon 
me, or the lightnings of vengeance devour 
me. But so blinded and ignorant was I, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 59 

that I little thought these to be the visita- 
tions of the Spirit of grace, — that when this 
pensive sadness pervaded my soul, it was 
the whispering of the Holy Spirit, saying, 
Come, seek substantial good, that which will 
embody, exceed and satisfy, all that is ideal; 
— come to the waters of life; come, and 
peace, like a river, shall be yours, and joy 
unspeakable and full of glory. I knew not 
that, when filled with terror at the wild revel 
of the elements; that it was God's voice 
speaking in thunder-tones to come away 
from that place of danger, to seek shelter in 
the Rock that was cleft to take me in; to 
come where torrents never flow, where light- 
nings never play or thunders roll ; but where 
peace, tranquillity and love preside, and 
where eternal sunshine settles on the soul. 

Years fled, and sad changes were wrought 
in my physical frame. The sorrows of my 
early youth were nought to this. Even life 
itself was rendered burdensome, and I longed 



60 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

to die. Do you wonder at this, dear reader 1 
What was life to me, since all its active 
scenes were as though they were not? For, 
henceforth I was to be an invalid ; — more 
than this, the power of locomotion was for- 
ever gone, and I compelled to sit in the same 
position the remnant of my days. 

The hand of God in this I now distinctly 
see. O, how do I adore the riches of his 
grace in employing any mode of operation to 
secure my eternal good ! Perhaps never 
should I have known my sins forgiven, or 
felt his blood applied, if affliction had not 
thus been my portion. Surely it has been to 
me a blessing in disguise ! and I now am 
enabled to say, through grace, "The cup 
that my Father hath given me, shall I not 
drink it? " But I anticipate. 

About three years after I lost the use of my 
limbs, and when hope had almost fled con- 
cerning my recovery, I bethought myself 
of God. Hitherto I had been reckless and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 61 

complaining, caring for nought but returning 
health, dependent upon others for every 
temporal blessing, and no source within of 
peace and comfort. O, wretched state ! 
Destitute of the pleasures of earth or reli- 
gion, why is life prolonged? Better lay 
me down and die, than drag out such a 
miserable existence. The eternal future I 
cared not for, — no future condition can be 
more wretched than this; — and more, when 
life's lamp flickers in its socket, and is ex- 
tinguished by the blast of death, there shall 
be an end of all my sufferings, and I con- 
ducted to the mansions of the blest, for 
" Jesus died the world to save. 7 ' " For as 
in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all 
be made alive." Thus, you see, I had im- 
bibed, while in health, the belief of my 
father, that all men are unconditionally 
saved. For months I repined and mur- 
mured against God, and considered him 
unjust. According to my own theory, that 
6 



62 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

punishment was confined to this life, that it 
always follows immediately the commission 
of sin, I certainly must have been of all 
sinners the chief; for none were so afflicted. 
The inquiry would often arise, What have 
I done to merit punishment so severe? I 
knew I had not obeyed all of God's com- 
mands, but I had never been openly wicked 
or profane. The bacchanalian revel, or ine- 
briate's bowl, was not my resort. The vio- 
lator of God's day, or the profaner of his 
name, were not my companions. I con- 
sidered myself at least tolerably moral and 
upright. Now, here was a problem for me, 
as a* Universalist, to solve, — to reconcile 
my creed with my own condition. Again, 
I looked upon the -world, and some, who 
were unrighteous, flourished as the green 
bay tree. Earth's treasures showered into 
their coffers, and they had all that heart 
could wish ; while others, who were devoted 
and pious, pined in poverty and neglected 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 63 

solitude. The more I meditated, the more 
fallacious my doctrine appeared ; and soon I 
turned to see what was written in the law 
and testimony. A frame was prepared 
directly in front of me, and by holding a 
pointed wire between my teeth, I was ena- 
bled to turn the leaves, and thus read the 
oracles of truth. I was induced to read, to 
beguile the tediousness of the hours; but 
more strongly, that I might arrive at truth, — 
for my soul panted for a reality of good. I 
commenced the Bible by course, and before 
I had finished, I came to the conclusion 
that 

" The sinner must be born again, 
Or feel the wrath of God." 

When this was settled, I looked to the hills 
whence strength cometh for help. O, how 
earnestly did I pray for the Holy Spirit's 
influence, to soften and subdue ! for as yet 
my judgment only was convinced. No ray 
of hope beamed from the skies, and for 



64 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

weeks I groped in impenetrable night ; but 
still I prayed, and groaned, and agonized. 
The word of God I diligently and prayer- 
fully read, in connection with other works. 
The writings of Josephus were to me wit- 
nesses of the truth of the word of God ; and 
I derived some consolation from the fact 
that I had arrived at the fountain of truth, 
though its efficacy and power had not been 
felt upon my heart. Fox's Book of Martyrs 
was next perused ; and oh, in eternity I shall 
rejoice for its blessed effects ! Hope began 
to dawn. I felt there was a power some- 
where that could remove the load of guilt 
and sin from my burdened heart, — that 
there was something that could cause me, 
even in deep affliction, to rejoice. I was 
conscious that the elements of happiness 
were in one's own bosom, and not necessa- 
rily dependent upon circumstances. If the 
worthy martyrs could rejoice in prospect 
of death in all its horrid forms, — exult 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 65 

in sight of fire and fagot, — triumph in full 
view of every imaginable invention of tor- 
turous death, — glory in tribulation under 
the fatal blade, and amid the curling flames, 

— surely these light afflictions of mine are 
endurable. My sorrows are not like their 
sorrows, nor my grief like theirs. I am only 
trammelled in body, and that too by one who 
has a right thus to do ; but I have the free 
use of religious liberty to serve God accord- 
ing to the dictates of my own conscience, 

— while by men they were deprived of this. 
Let tyrants fetter my body; — let it be torn in 
pieces by wild beasts, — let the rack, and fire, 
and all the instruments of suffering com- 
bined, be put under contribution, — but give 
me the free power of yielding to God accept- 
able service, and mine is the better portion. 
And now I thought that the same power 
that was given to them could be imparted to 
me, — for God is no respectei of persons. 
Cheer up, my soul ! 

6* 



66 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

" Give to the winds thy fears ; 

Hope, and be undismayed ; 
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, 

God shall lift up thy head. 
Through waves, and clouds, and storms, 

He gently clears thy way ; 
Wait thou his time, — so shall this night 

Soon end in joyous day." 

About this time, a few pious young men 
of the village where I then resided came 
weekly to my room, and held prayer-meet- 
ings with special reference to my case, 
which, under the blessing of God, were 
instrumental in leading me to the Fountain 
of Life. Soon I was enabled to see light 
begin to dawn, and it gradually brightened 
until I knew that the Sun of Rignteousness 
shed his benign rays upon my heart, and I 
felt the transforming influence. Now, I re- 
joiced in tribulation, and saw distinctly a 
Father's hand in all my pathway, guiding 
and directing, that I might be brought to 
this blessed state. Thus has the heavenly 



OF JUSTIN WELLS* 67 

gardener dug about me, a withered, barren 
fig-tree, until at last the effects are seen. 
But oh, it has been costly digging ! It has 
cost me all earth's pleasures and enjoyments, 
— the loss of limbs, «and the loss of health ; 
but what are these in comparison with a 
knowledge of sins forgiven, and the appro- 
bation of Heaven ? Not worthy to be com- 
pared. " Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and 
forget not all his benefits ! " Since that bliss- 
ful hour, I have been enabled to rejoice in 
prospect of constant disease, infirmity, and 
a premature death, and in anticipation of 
receiving a crown of glory when permitted 
to lay aside these vestments of mortality. I 
am confident there is as bright a crown for 
those who suffer, as for those who do his 
will. Most cheerfully, then, 

" I '11 suffer on my threescore years, 
Till my deliverer come, 
To wipe away his servant's tears, 
And take his exile home." 



68 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

At times my heart has wandered ; but 
God has kindly chastened, and I have been 
brought again to give him my best affec- 
tions. O, the goodness and mercy of God, 
in using such varied m§ans to bring us back 
to his embrace ! And now I am waiting for 
my hour of dissolution, when this earthly 
house shall be taken down, and I shall be 
borne on seraph's wings to mansions of 
bliss ! 

Although comparative bliss was now my 
portion, still I had not suffered all God's 
righteous will. A scene of deep affliction 
was again allotted me. My father had 
borne for twelve years the weight of grief 
occasioned by mother's insanity, and the 
scattering of his household, with fortitude, 
and had ever been a kind father: sympa- 
thizing with us in our sorrows, and rejoicing 
in our prosperity. But at length, a down- 
cast and dejected man, he came to his end 
by drowning, in the town of Manchester, 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 69 

Connecticut. In a few short weeks aftei 
this, the youngest of my two sisters sick 
ened and died, leaving a husband and little 
one ; and shortly after, the other sister was 
carried to the tomb. The remains of one 
rest in Glastenbury, and the other in Feed- 
ing-Hills, Mass. Both I hope to meet again 
in heaven. O, yes ; there will be a reunion ! 
Blessed thought! Even now I see them 
sweeping the golden harp, and hear them 
swell the anthem of praise to the glorious 
Redeemer ! 

The Bible has taught me to be patient in 
affliction ; and grace has strengthened me 
to endure " as seeing him who is invisible." 
I have learned to "rejoice in the Lord 
always; " to "let my moderation be known 
unto all men," and to feel that " the Lord is 
at hand." I have been instructed, from the 
blessed volume of truth, to " Be careful for 
nothing ; but in everything, by prayer and 
supplication, with thanksgiving, to let my 



70 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

requests be made known unto God," con- 
scious that " the peace of God which passeth 
all understanding shall keep my heart and 
mind through Christ Jesus." Thanks be to 
God, " I have learned in whatsoever state 
I am, therewith to be content. I know how 
to be abased, and I know how to abound ; 
everywhere, and in all things, I am in- 
structed, both to be full and to be hrjngry, 
both to abound and to suffer need. I can 
do all things through Christ, which strength- 
en eth me." 

After despairing of recovering my strength, 
I placed myself under the instruction of 
stern necessity; and found her to be indeed 
u the mother of invention." 
* I have stated that, by means of a frame 
attached to my chair, and placed in a proper 
position before me, I was able to read, turn- 
ing the leaves with a pointed wire. I soon 
found that by laying a slate upon the frame, 
I could use a pencil, and form letters or 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 71 

figures. With this facility, I commenced 
the study of mathematics, and prosecuted 
it with success, hoping to realize some pe- 
cuniary aid, to supply my immediate wants; 
but in this respect I failed. It afforded me, 
however, ample pleasure and satisfaction. 
It relieved the monotony of life, and tended 
to discipline the mind to olose application, so 
that to this day I feel its effects in the pow- 
er, feeble though it may be, to concentrate 
thought. 

I next applied myself to the science of 
music. I had ever been a lover of music, 
both vocal and instrumental; but not an 
adept in either. The depths of my soul 
have often been stirred while listening to the 
solemn organ's peal, and the chant of voices 
tuned to praise. Nature had bestowed a 
deep bass voice, so that I longed to become 
a proficient. I succeeded so far as to enable 
me to read very readily any composition, 
however difficult; and often has my soul 



72 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

exulted, while, I trust with the spirit, and 
with the understanding also, I have sung 
the praise of God. 

I next discovered, that by holding a pen- 
cil between my teeth, I could write on paper, 
arranging my manuscript with the pointed 
wire attached to my teeth, by means of a 
cord drawn between them, by which it was 
suspended when not in use. I soon at- 
tempted to use a pen in the same manner, 
and by diligent application for nearly a 
year, succeeded in being able to write 
legibly. 

Having thus far overcome difficulties that 
seemed utterly insurmountable, I now con- 
ceived the idea of writing a little book, and 
at once addressed myself to the work. Slow 
and tedious has been the process ; but the 
result is now before the reader, accompanied 
with the earnest desire that the author may 
prove a sun of consolation to some of the 
afflicted ones of earth. 



CHAPTER VII. 

" O what am I, that I should dare arraign 

Thy righteous dealings, Judge of all the earth? 
A rebel and transgressor from my birth, — 

Conceived in sin, — the heir of wrath and pain, 

What cause have I to murmur and complain, 
When thou art pleased to smite ? For hadst thou dealt 
In righteous judgment, I had long since dwelt 

In that abyss where prayer itself, t' obtain 

The slightest mitigation of my doom, 
Were unavailing. Let me rather praise 

Thy patience, that thou dost not yet consume 
So vile a wretch. O no ! Thy word of grace 

Assures me that the deepest wounds I feel 

Are given in mercy, — not to sldiy, — but heal." 

" God moves in a mysterious way." If 
we attempt at all times to trace his provi- 
dences, we find that u clouds and darkness 
are round about him," and from the midst 
we hear a voice saying, u What I do thou 
7 G 



74 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

knowest not now, but thou shalt know here- 
after." However insatiable the desire for 
knowledge which God has implanted in the 
human breast, it is the evident intention of 
its Author that it should not be gratified to 
its utmost extent in the present state of 
being. Though it may ascend to the very- 
footsteps of the eternal throne, yet there it is 
stayed by the glory of him that sits upon it. 
Every subject that passes before the mind 
is to a greater or less extent involved in 
mystery, and utterly beyond our compre- 
hension. Everything that we know brings 
with it something that we ' cannot know. 
The systems of nature, of grace, and of 
providence, are replete with enigmas. Na- 
ture's varied scenes are spread out before 
us, illustrative of the wisdom, power and 
goodness, of the Creator ; and conduct us, in 
our contemplations, up to " nature's God." 
" The heavens declare the glory of God, 
and the firmament sheweth his handiwork; 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 75 

day unto day uttereth speech, and night 
unto night showeth knowledge; " but at the 
same time mystery enshrouds all its essences, 
and intercepts our inquiring zeal. " The 
minute and the vast are alike inscrutable. 
We can no more comprehend an insect than 
we can grasp a world. After all the inves- 
tigations of the wise, they have gone but 
a few steps beyond the vulgar. A true 
philosopher will say, in the language of one 
of the brightest ornaments of the philosophic 
school, 'All that we know is, that we know 
nothing.' " Nature, indeed, distinctly points 
out to us a God, but she will reply to none 
of the inquiries which curiosity may dic- 
tate. She says to reason, "Thus far shalt 
thou go, and no further." 

Doubtless, every fact, agent and operation, 
in the natural world, has its design. The 
heaving of the ocean and the uncapping of 
the mountain, the rumbling of the thunder 
and the lightning blazing across the heavens, 



76 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

these mighty agents and events, and the 
minute too, that are scarcely observed by the 
contemplative mind, are not without a pur- 
pose. 

"The zephyr playing with an aspen leaf, — the earthquake 

that rendeth a continent ; 
The moonbeams silvering a ruined arch, — the desert wave 

dashing up a pyramid ; 
The thunder of jarring icebergs, — the stops of a shepherd's 

pipe; 
The howl of the tiger in the glen, — and the wood-dove call- 
ing to her mate ; 
The vulture's cruel rage, — the grace of the stately swan ; 
The fierceness looking from the lynx's eye, — and the dull 

stupor of the sloth ; — 
To these, and to all, is there added each its use, though man 

considereth it lightly ; 
For Power hath ordained nothing which Economy saw not 

needful." 

And even Revelation itself, which profess- 
edly makes known to us the deep things of 
God, reveals facts, but does not pretend to 
explain the theory of those facts. 

" The Christian's faith had many mysteries too. 
The uncreated holy Three in One ; 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 77 

Divine incarnate ; human in divine ; 
The inward call ; the sanctifying dew. 
Coming unseen, unseen departing thence ; 
Anew creating all, and yet not heard ; 
Mysterious these, — because too large for eye 
Of man, too long for human arm to mete." 

How it is that the invisible spirit of the 
Most High enters the heart of man, and 
accomplishes its work, " creating it anew in 
righteousness and true holiness," is only 
thus explained : " The wind bloweth where 
it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, 
but canst not tell whence it cometh and 
whither it goeth. So is every one that is 
bom of the spirit." 

The most accomplished sceptic and the 
most deep-read infidel, while they may 
cavil at the revealed system of Christianity, 
cannot pretend to account for it or to com- 
prehend it in all its length and breadth; 
and the most deeply-experienced and learned 
believer, while his soul triumphs in the be- 
lief of the Christian scheme, is constrained 
7# 



78 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

to confess that it is too wonderful for him. 
He can comprehend neither the love* that 
prompted, the wisdom that conceived, or the 
power that executed it. Not that it contains 
anything contrary to reason, but it is far 
above, and extends infinitely beyond, reason. 
But the mysteries of Providence very far 
transcend those of nature and of grace. 
There are, indeed, evident marks, that God, 
" who sitteth upon the circle of the heavens," 
"ruleth among the children of men;" but 
from our incapacity to understand the whole 
system of his government, we are often 
involved in perplexity, and the voice of mur- 
muring and complaint is heard concerning 
the Divine dealings. But our perplexity is 
all to be attributed to our ignorance of the 
ways of the Lord. To attempt to penetrate 
the mystery, and understand all the deep and 
sacred designs of the Almighty, is but a 
vain attempt of a finite mind to grasp the 
Infinite, — to comprehend the incomprehen- 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 79 

sible, or to fathom the fathomless. The great 
reason why Providence does not appear to 
pursue a regular and consistent plan, — why- 
virtue is not always crowned with temporal 
prosperity, and vice invariably attended with 
temporal misery, — is, that God has to deal 
with an ungrateful and rebellious race, and 
at the same time govern them as moral 
agents. There are, indeed, palpable evi- 
dences that God approves virtue and intends 
a reward; that he disapproves vice, and 
designs punishment. These evidences are to 
be traced both in our physical frame and in 
our mental nature. The blushing cheek, the 
tremulous and abashed eye, the trembling 
hand, and convulsed frame, are indexes of 
the guilt that exists in the heart, and are 
designed to betray the offender. The brow 
calm, the eye serene, and the frame com- 
posed, are designed as marks of innocence, 
which God has affixed to the physical sys- 
tem. 



80 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

In the mind God has erected his own tri- 
bunal. He has placed conscience there, in 
its high office of observing all the actions of 
men, and all their thoughts and motives, 
and endowed it with the marvellous power 
of uttering its voice so as to be heard above 
the din of the human passions, consoling the 
upright with its approval, sanctioned by the 
Most High, and infusing gall into the sweet- 
est cups of the offending and rebellious, 
upbraiding them with remorseful reflections 
and fearful forebodings of coming vengeance. 

But while this is admitted as rational and 
consistent truth, there are many isolated 
events which appear to be exceptions, and 
from which the conclusion is drawn by the 
superficial observer, that chance rules the 
world. These instances are those in which 
the wicked are allowed to prosper in the 
things of this world, until " their eyes stand 
out with fatness, and they have more than 
heart can wish," while the virtuous and 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 81 

devoted are compelled to repine in indi- 
gence, and mourn the absence of the bless- 
ings of Providence. Criminals often escape 
undetected and unpunished, while the heav- 
iest calamities fall upon the innocent and 
unoffending. The wicked live many years, 
to execute their plans of evil, while the 
righteous are often cut down in the midst 
of their career of usefulness, or adversity 
blights their fairest prospects, and consigns 
them to obscurity and suffering. Virtuous 
youth, and helpless, harmless infancy, are 
by no means shielded from the relentless 
hand of the destroyer. Earthquakes and 
floods, famine and pestilence, are commis- 
sioned to sweep away indiscriminately the 
innocent and the guilty. The unoffending 
infant is selected by the destroyer as his vic- 
tim. In his iron grasp it writhes and 
groans, but writhes and groans in vain. It 
lifts up its infant wailing, but the foe has no 
heart to feel. Its pensive moan and bitter 



82 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

complaint, together with fond parents' tears 
and prayers, are alike disregarded. At 
length the fragile frame yields to the stroke, 
the labored breath grows short, and yet 
shorter still; the dimly burning taper that 
lit its cherub face is extinguished, and the 
lovely innocent is no more. Is it because of 
the sins of the sufferer, that a righteous 
Judge has permitted this? No; it has com- 
mitted no sin; it has not known good or 
evil. Though God, in this instance, has 
acted as a ruler, yet has he "held back the 
face of his throne, and spread his cloud 
upon it." 

We see next a lovely and vigorous youth, 
flushed with hope, and full of cheerfulness 
and joy. He has been the object of parents' 
solicitude, — a father's counsel and a mothers 
prayers. Mental and moral culture have 
been bestowed without measure. He is 
qualified for the highest stations of influence 
and usefulness. With this high endowment 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 83 

he goes forth, his glad heart beating wuh 
the throb of enthusiasm as his eye rests upon 
the whitened fields all ready for the harvest, 
which he hopes, with the Divine blessing, to 
gather into the garner of the Lord. But to- 
morrow that foot-tread ceases to be heard. 
That large heart has ceased to beat. Those 
bright prospects are vanished. That spirit, 
that panted to bring souls under the domin- 
ion of Christ, has taken its flight, and there 
is left only a mass of mouldering clay. Con- 
templating the event, we are constrained to 
confess that the Governor of the universe is 
a "God that hideth himself." — "Clouds and 
darkness are round about him. His way is 
in the sea, and his path in the great waters ; 
his footsteps are not known." 

These events are mysteries, that no wis- 
dom, however profound, unaided from above, 
can solve. But with the light of revelation, 
and with the history of the past before us, 
we may rationally conclude that they are 



84 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

not controlled by caprice, — that they are 
not left to roll on by mere chance, neither 
occasioned or permitted by one who is 
regardless of men, or who rules as a tyrant. 

Vain man would be wise. He would 
choose his own path. But if allowed to do 
so, though the path of his choice might be 
strewed with flowers, and the blessings of 
his selection innumerable, he would inevita- 
bly be ruined. We are strongly inclined to 
pray ardently to be delivered from affliction ; 
and yet the Scriptures reveal affliction as 
necessary, that we may be properly disci- 
plined for that world where affliction is no 
more. We are so ignorant of ourselves, and 
of the circumstances that surround us, that 
we know not what to ask at the hand of 
the Lord, or what will in the end prove a 
blessing. 

By reason of his ignorance, what an error 
was committed by Lot, when he chose for 
his residence the plain of Jordan, because it 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 85 

was well watered, even as the garden of the 
Lord ; which was afterward overthrown for 
the wickedness of the inhabitants, and he 
lost all his possessions, together with the 
partner of his youth, and himself and daugh- 
ters narrowly escaped ! How little did Jacob, 
though so pious a servant of God, know, 
when he said of the providential arrange- 
ment by which his household was to be sus- 
tained in the years of famine, ' W 'A11 these 
things are against me!" How ignorant was 
Elijah when he fled from Jezebel, and 
requested for himself that he might die, — 
Peter, when he would have dissuaded the 
Lord from suffering, — and the disciples, 
when they would have called down fire 
from heaven to consume the city of the 
Samaritans ! 

And hence, because of our incompetency, 
the Lord has graciously reserved the selec- 
tion of providences with himself. " In the 
hand of the Lord there is a cup; it is full of 
8 



86 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

mixture, and the wine is red. He poureth it 
out." He imparts favors as we can bear 
them, and afflictions, disappointments and 
bereavements, as they are necessary for our 
correction, reproof and profit. The great 
reason of the mystery connected with provi- 
dential occurrences is, that we know only in 
part. We trace only here and there an 
event ; and not being able to know its design, 
or its connection with other events, it is a 
total mystery. If a complicated piece of 
machinery were taken in pieces, and scat- 
tered to the four corners of the earth, and a 
traveller, ignorant of the whole, were to take 
up a separate part, not knowing its design, 
the relation it sustained to others, or the 
power it was designed to exert over others, 
it would be perfectly mysterious to him. 
But, let the scattered parts be collected and 
placed in their proper position before him, 
and allow him then to see the whole in op- 
eration, and the mystery will be developed. 



, OF JUSTIN WELLS. 87 

Thus with the events of providence. We 
find them separate and alone. We see one 
lifted up, and another, equally virtuous, cast 
down; and we can by no means solve the 
mystery. But could we cast off the dark- 
ness that enshrouds us, — could we rise to 
some eminence above the capacity of finite 
beings, and, with an eye that could compre- 
hend all things, see as God sees, and under- 
stand as he understands, — we should discover 
that, with the wisdom worthy of a God, he 
is controlling the universe ; — we should be 
constrained to adore the wisdom and the 
ways of God, — u O the depth of the riches 
both of the wisdom and the knowledge of 
God; — how unsearchable are his judgments, 
and his ways past finding oLit ! 7 

It is obvious that the present is a state of 
probation, — that God does not ordinarily 
punish sin immediately upon its commission, 
nor reward the deeds of virtue as they are 
performed. And if we were not left in a 



DO NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

measure ignorant of the Divine ways, no 
room would be left for the exercise of faith. 
Knowledge would take its place, and we 
must necessarily be deprived of the rich 
reward which is bestowed upon him who 
trusts in His word. 

God designs that his mighty working 
should produce an effect, not upon a single 
individual merely, nor even a single genera- 
tion — but that each event should be felt in 
coming ages, down to the close of time. 

How little did Abraham know of God's 
wise and merciful design, when, after declar- 
ing to him, "In Isaac shall thy seed be 
called, and in him shall all nations of the 
earth be blessed," he issued the command, 
u Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, 
whom thou lovest, and get thee into the 
mountain of Moriah, and offer him up there 
for a burnt-offering upon one of the moun- 
tains that I shall tell thee of! " And it was 
not until, in obedience to the command, he 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 89 

had ascended the mountain, and built an 
altar, and laid the wood in order, and bound 
Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar 
upon the wood, and lifted the knife to slay 
his son, that the mystery was in any meas- 
ure developed. Tracing it as an event of 
history, we can now see the grand design. 
It was to prove that patriarch, — to call out 
and exhibit the power of his faith for the 
benefit of the world. 

How little would the world ever have 
known of the extent to which patience might 
be exercised in affliction, had not God per- 
mitted Job to fall into the hands of his ene- 
my, and caused the account to be recorded 
for our instruction ! We learn the power of 
faith to triumph over all calamities from the 
numerous instances recorded in the Scrip- 
tures of the ancient worthies, " who, through 
faith, subdued kingdoms, wrought righteous- 
ness, obtained promises, stopped the mouths 
of lions, quenched the violence of fire, 
8* h 



90 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

escaped the edge of the sword, out of weak- 
ness were made strong, waxed valiant in fight, 
turned to flight the armies of the aliens." 

Murmur not, then, at the dispensations of 
providence ! If the wicked are left to pros- 
per in their wickedness, — if "they are not 
in trouble as other men, neither are they 
plagued like other men — if their pride com- 
passeth them about as a chain, and violence 
covereth them as a garment," — go with Da- 
vid into the sanctuary of the Lord, and un- 
derstand their end. Know thou that with 
Dives they are receiving their good things, 
and are permitted to prosper in this life, 
that, despising the riches of Divine grace, 
their ruin may be more conspicuous, and 
their end more terrible; — while it is in the 
season of the deepest affliction that God is 
pledged to be with the believer, to deliver 
him, and honor him. It is then that he 
finds cause to break into the song, "It is 
good for me that I was afflicted; for the 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 91 

Lord will command his loving-kindness in 
the day-time, and in the night his song shall 
be with me." 

This is a subject which, for many years, 
that I have spent in solitude, has occupied 
my thoughts. I have learned wisdom by 
the things that I have suffered. I have 
learned to bow submissively under the hand 
of God, — to reverence his ways, — to ac- 
knowledge the supreme authority of his 
word ; and to adore where I cannot compre- 
hend, and to wait patiently for eternity to 
break the seal, disclose mysteries, and open 
to the eager gaze that book which will 
ever be unfolding the providential dealings 
of God. O, that History of histories, which 
records what wonders God has wrought, to 
keep men back from the pit, and conduct 
them to himself ! 

Then I may learn that a kind mother 
was bereft of reason here, that she might be 
crowned with glory hereafter ; that she was 



92 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

suffered to live a wandering maniac, that 
the proud hearts of sons and daughters 
might be humbled; — that the tender bud 
of glory was violently cut down, that it 
might not drink in the pestilential miasma 
of earth, and bear the blight forever; and 
then by angels was borne home with joy, 
to shed its fragrance in heaven. Sisters 
were stricken down, with some wise de- 
sign, that I shall then understand. And as 
for myself, I shall learn, as I now feel, that 
God has dealt mercifully with me. I re- 
fused to walk in his ordinances, and he 
came and paralyzed these limbs, that I 
should not walk at all upon his footstool ; — 
I would not employ my hands in his ser- 
vice, and he smote them like the barren fig- 
tree, that, withered and shrivelled as they 
are, they should not be employed in the 
service of sin. I lifted my puny arm against 
the authority of Heaven, and powerless it 
fell, to be lifted no more. I refused to yield 



OF JUSTIN WELLS. 93 

obedience to the commands of God, and the 
storm of vengeance was gathering, and the 
clouds of wrath were marshalling them- 
selves, to pour their furious artillery upon 
my head forever ; and the hand of the Lord 
was laid upon me, that I might be bowed 
down under it, until the storm of danger 
should pass over. My mental and moral 
powers were left unharmed. Bereft of all 
other, and made to see and to feel my feeble- 
ness, these I consecrated to God; — poor and 
unworthy the offering, but it is all I have, 
and God requires no more. Now, " I know 
whom I have believed, and I am persuaded 
that he is able to keep that which I have 
committed to his care unto that day." Let 
the turbid waters of affliction roll high, and 
let their angry billows dash and break 
around me, — let the storms of adversity 
come down and beat in all their fury upon 
my head ! My anchor is within the vail ; 
and, through grace, I shall not be moved. 



94 NARRATIVE AND REFLECTIONS 

And if. by slowly rolling years, " this earthly 
house of my tabernacle be dissolved, I have 
a building of God, an house not made with 
hands, eternal in the heavens." 

When I think of the scenes through which 
I have passed, my heart saddens ; but hith- 
erto God hath sustained me, and I have 
abundant reason to magnify the riches of 
his grace, and to adore lii£ matchless wis- 
dom, in bringing exiles home. 

The future is full of pleasing anticipa- 
tions, and images more lovely than fancy 
can paint. They are opened to view by 
revelation and grace. " Eye hath not seen / 
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the 
heart of man, the things which God hath 
prepared for those that love him.'* I see a 
fond and affectionate mother, clothed in her 
right mind, and bearing the image of the 
heavenly ; an infant brother, walking b} 
the " river of life," and causing the atmos- 
phere of heaven to tremble with his songs 



OF JUSTIN WELL5. 95 

of praise; I see sisters, clothed in white, 
and plucking " ambrosial fruit that grows 
on life's fair tree;" and all the members of a 
severed family that have been renewed by 
grace, and endure to the end, shall meet 
again; the family bond will again be united. 
He who hath scattered shall send forth his 
angels, and gather his saints from the four 
corners under heaven. " Many shall come 
from the east and west, and shall sit down 
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the 
kingdom of heaven." Then shall these dor- 
mant and paralyzed limbs feel the flow of 
vigor and of health, and through grace, I 
shall, with an elastic step, walk the streets 
of the Holy City, and, with the multitude 
that have come up through great tribulation, 
cause heaven's high dome to ring with the 
melody of the exalted and triumphant song, 
" Unto him that loved us, and washed us 
from our sins in his own blood, and hath 
made us kings and priests unto God and his 



96 NARRATIVE, ETC. 

Father ; to him be glory and dominion, for 
ever and ever ! Amen." 

" I bless thee, Father, that thy breath has given 

Existence unto me, a broken reed ; 
That, midst the griefs by which life's ties are riven, 

Thou hast bestowed me strength in time of need ; 
Thy hand upheld me when my heart was fraught 

With griefs that wrung my full heart to the core ; 
Though I perceived not, 5 t was thy hand that brought 

The " balm of Gilead " to the festering sore. 

M I bless thee, Father, for the sunlight streaming, 

Like golden showers, on forest, hill and dome ; 
And for the blessed stars, like watch-fires gleaming 

On heaven's high walls, to light us to our home 
And for each little flower that lifts its cup 

Of gentle beauty through the emerald sod, 
Sending its perfume — Nature's incense — up 

Unto thy throne, I bless thee, oh my God ! 

" I bless thee, Father, for the light which shineth, 

Clear and unbroken, on life's rugged way — 
A ray from thy pure throne, which ne'er declineth, 

But ever brightens till the perfect day ; 
That thou hast taught my heart to be content — 

My weary soul to suffer and be still — 
A pilgrim I, who patiently must wait, 

Till I have done on earth my Master's will." 



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